Have Courage, Elsa
by WoBuHuiXie
Summary: Elsa has lived a happier life ever since the Great Thaw, albeit one in insecurity and self-loathing. As she tries to confront her inner demons, a true monster motivated by revenge approaches Arendelle, threatening to strip the Snow Queen of everything she had loved and fought for. Chapter 11 Summary: Prince Adam says his last goodbyes.
1. Ch 1: A Bedtime Story

**I would like the thank _Frozen_ for corrupting my brain, until I decided to try my hand at writing for the Internet after years of inactivity. I would also like to thank you readers for taking your time to read this stuff.**

**Basically, _Have Courage, Elsa_ is what happens when you let a high school student run wild with the idea of a potential _Frozen_ sequel. Specifically, a teenager who can only pay attention to a book long enough if it was part of _The Dresden Files._ It will definitely show, as I try my best to channel a literal Chinese (Taiwanese?) Jim Butcher knock-off.**

**I probably just insulted his name by comparing myself to him, so forgive me if I were to disappear into the night due to mysterious circumstances.**

**I uh... don't actually know exactly what kind of genre this story belongs to. I mean, it's got fluff between friends and families, guaranteed Elsa Angst, bits of (cringe) comedy here and there, a mostly supernatural angle, and etc.**

**Also, it will get pretty dark later on, but I trust that kiddies should be able to handle a little blood.**

**All rights belong to Disney. That is what I'm supposed to say, right?**

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_**Long Overdue Note: I've rearranged the chapters, so the reading experience is much more smoother. Numbered chapters that contribute to the story are in the front, and labeled "Ch X: Bloogityboogityboo."**_

_**One-shots and Just-For-Funsies are located in the back, and are labeled "A Hsasafrasas". **_

_**The newest chapter will be displayed as the last one, and the story summary will have a synopsis of that update. The story's genre will also change to reflect the chapter.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

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Chapter 1

A Bedtime Story

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"Elsa! Elsa! Wake up! Papa's gonna read us a story!"

"Tell him I'm too tired!"

"Elsaaaaa..." Someone tugged at her hand.

"Oh all right!"

Elsa opened her eyes, seeing a brightly freckled, pudgy face staring back at her with unabashed glee. Her pigtails bounced up and down with every hyperactive hop, and she grinned at her favorite sister with tiny teeth. Little Anna had been pulling at Elsa's arm with all her might, hoping that her chubby arms could yank her big sister out of her bed. Unfortunately for the tot, she was but a small girl, and her most valiant efforts were fruitless.

Next to Anna, a figure with broad shoulders and strong build towered over Elsa's bed, carrying a thick, heavily-mauled book. The man smiled at her, clearly amused by his younger daughter's antics.

"Hi Papa..." Elsa stretched and gave a yawn, hardly noticing that her loose hair was sticking all over the place with little dignity. An idle strand brushed past Anna's nose, prompting the little girl to sniffle and scratch at it.

"That hairstyle is hardly becoming of that of a princess, young lady." The King remarked solemnly. Then, he began to chuckle. "But I'll let this slide for once. Ready for a story, young one?"

"Huh? Oh, sure..."

The King gave another smile, and sat on the bed gently. Anna, being the toddler she was, crawled up with much less grace, struggling to lift her leg over the sheets. In the end, she required the assistance of the king's arm to finally prop her up. She bounced on the bed several times to make herself comfortable, before finally calming long enough to sit down.

"Now listen, you two," the King whispered, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. They shone brightly in the light of the full moon through the bedroom window. "What I am about to tell is a scary tale, passed down from my great-great grandfather, to my great-grandfather, to my-"

"Grandfather?" Elsa flatly interjected.

"No, to my aunt. Don't interrupt." He grinned at her, though. "If you mother found out what I am about to tell you, she'll have my ears for breakfast. So, be warned, children." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "This is not just a legend, but a true story that my ancestors experienced before coming to Arendelle. Can you two guarantee that you will be able to sleep tonight after I'm done?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! Tell me, tell me now!" Anna was practically bouncing off the walls with her excitement. Elsa smiled at her, but thought pensively to herself. She was already enjoying a good sleep before Anna and Papa interrupted her. If she were to lose rest over this, both would have deal with a very cross Elsa in the morning. A frostbite to the butt will suffice. "Okay."

The King's face brightened. "Alright! Here's how it goes..." He opened the book in his hand, whose pages have wrinkled and yellowed with age. Upon the sheets were runes scribbled all over, some faded and nearly illegible. Dust flew high into the air as the King flipped through the scripture, causing him to sneeze heavily and uncontrollably. His two daughters giggled at his expense.

"Ah, finally." He pointed at the beginning of a passage with a long finger. "Here it is. So, do you two know what is a Spøkelse is?"

Elsa just had to interrupt. "Come on Papa, everyone knows that ghosts do not exist!"

"Umm... Yeah! Elsa's right! They d- I mean, no, no they don't!" Anna piped.

The King raised his hands in protest. "I did not even start the story, and you two are making such a ruckus. Please, let me continue!" His two daughters settled down. He thought himself lucky that he was blessed with two such incredibly spirited girls, even if that meant he and his wife would have to deal with outbursts like this regularly.

The King of Arendelle cleared his throat. "So, this tale first began when your great-great grandfather Adam was but a young prince, the second son of his lineage. He once resided in the land of Ravendall, a beautiful kingdom that was famous for its expansive stretches of forests and waterfalls." He smiled at them. "The prince was fearless, strong, adventurous, and maybe just a tad foolish. You see, unlike most people, he loved to explore Ravendall's deep wilderness."

"Why would that be strange?" Elsa remarked.

"That's because the forests were very old. They have been there since Adam's ancestors first came across and settled the land, many, many centuries ago. Many secrets lie within them, hidden for ages to come." The King waggled his fingers and eyebrows to emphasize his point, prompting the little girls to giggle at him. "There have been stories of brave and foolhardy men and women walking into the forests, and never coming back. Most believed that those who entered remained lost for eternity, forever looking for a way back to civilization. Not to mention all of the monsters and creatures one could find in there, looking to capture a human to make into their meal."

"What kind of creatures?" Anna squeaked, petrified. Elsa merely rolled her eyes.

"Creatures that have little love for sunlight. Elves, denizens of the Fae, goblins, giants, and even trolls!"

"Wow... that's so many..."

"But, as I have said before, your ancestor Prince Adam was brave and strong. He would repeatedly ride into the forests with his trusty horse and sword, and come back well and unscathed. He developed a reputation for being a little loopy-" the two sisters snickered at the word, "-among the royal court, but he was a favorite among the townsfolk. Children gathered around him as he told stories of how he bravely defied death, and would even bring treasures that were clearly not created by human hands as proof. A blanket of woven moss, an axe stained with the blood of its giant owner, goblets made of gold and adorned with the most brilliant sapphires, and other such oddities. Such bounty made his kingdom very rich, and Prince Adam did not hesitate to share the wealth with his subjects."

Until then, the King had been recounting this tale with a fond smile, no doubt nostalgia for the times when he first heard these tales from his own relatives. Now, he sobered almost immediately and appeared quite grave. Elsa and Anna looked at him with confusion.

"Then, one day, he came back from his regular excursions, a changed man. He became paranoid, always afraid someone is tailing him, haunting his thoughts everywhere. Prince Adam locked himself in his room out of fear, believing that a shadow will to come to pass over the kingdom. His brother, the King of Ravendall, clearly knew something went wrong in the forests. He made a thorough investigation, asking experts in all kinds of fields to remedy his brother, who continued to ramble about the end of times.

"The day after, Prince Adam's madness proved correct. A darkness conquered the beautiful landscape and overtook the castle, spreading fear and discord within the kingdom. Thick mist hung in the air and infested the city, causing all who tried to escape to find themselves back where they first started. Trying to walk straight through the fog caused men to bump back into their fellows moments after. The skies became perpetually dark, even with the sun shone brightly. The worst part was the cold."

Elsa perked up her ears at the word.

"There was a chill that pervaded the entire town, chilling the water, killing plants and animals, even without frost or snow appearing anywhere. Soon enough, when there was nothing else to extinguish, the darkness began stripping the life of the townsfolk. They died in despair, utterly powerless against this evil force."

Elsa could hardly believe such an absurd tale. _Lightless days? Evil shadows? Ha!_

Anna, who was sitting quietly for once, was in contrast completely hooked. Her eyes were bugging out so hard, Elsa thought they were going to pop right out.

The King continued, "That was when a Noaidi, a priest of the Sami people, came in. You see, he was a very talented man. Learned in the ways of trolls, he entered the kingdom, unperturbed by the mystic fog, darkness, and cold, and demanded the presence of the King. What other choice did the ruler have? He let the Noaidi in his castle.

"What the priest told the King was astounding. The source of the misfortune was the cause of a dark spirit whoangry with its own life, and lashed out at others in death. It was attracted to the joy spread by Prince Adam, for people can only succumb more to despair if they experienced great happiness first.

The solution to the plague wrought upon Ravendall was awful; the king must banish his brother, Prince Adam, from the kingdom, into the forests of Ravendall, so the spirit could leave his people alone and follow Adam back into the woods. The Prince should be fortunate, the Noaidi reasoned to the older brother, as his knowledge of the grounds were expansive, and could easily lose the spirit, trapping it in the haunted forests once more.

"With a heavy heart, the king sent his beloved brother away with the Noaidi, armed with only his sword, horse, and a couple days of provisions. There were many tears shed, as the brothers knew Adam could never come back unless he risked the spirit's return. The two men left the fog, never to see the King again. After what seemed like forever, the darkness faded, the mist disappeared, and light shined upon Ravendall once more.

"You would have to thank your ancestor for his fortune. The Noaidi's plan worked, and Adam was rid of the spirit's presence. He gained peace of mind, and eventually found home in a small village, which quickly grew into a rich kingdom with his advice and leadership. That kingdom, as you may have probably guessed, was Arendelle.

"Some say, however, that the Spøkelse is still in the forest, forever trying to find the Prince who cheated it out of its prize."

With that finally said, the king closed the book. "That's enough for tonight," he said. "I hope you enjoyed that little tale I told you."

"I loved it! I really really did! Anna squealed. She made swings with an imaginary sword, flailing her legs and pigtails back and forth wildly, before slipping on the sheets and falling bodily onto the bed. "I hope I grow up to be brave, just like Adam! Don't you Elsa?"

"Huh, me? I-I think that being brave is great too!" Elsa frowned. "But, is it true that the King and Adam never saw each other again?"

Her father gave a sad smile. "Yes, that is unfortunately the truth..."

"I hope that never happens with me and Anna..." Elsa looked at her baby sister, whom she was not surprised to see already tucked (and in the wrong bed, mind you) next to Elsa and passed out. Elsa stroked Anna's hair with a cool hand.

The King smiled. "I have little reason to think that situation will happen anytime soon... Goodnight, my children."

"Goodnight Papa."

Her father closed the door. Elsa turned her head to the window, briefly entertaining the thought of being a hero, riding on a horse with sword raised high. She would never had let anyone die, she thought, and would never be separated from her sister, who, typical of her, began to snore and drool on Elsa's pillow. Elsa, slightly grossed out but amused, drifted into a restful sleep.

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******Alright, done. Phew! that was a doozy! Look, even if you don't review regularly, drop some comments. I want to know how can I improve, and the resulting headache of writing a story (which I am suffering right now) will alleviate with some acknowledgement. It's selfish of me, but I want to know.**

**For the record, I think I should be able to pump out a new chapter every... what, 4-5 days? Just bear with me. Until then, goodbye! I am going to listen to the Frozen soundtrack. Again.**

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen._**


	2. Ch 2: Today's the Day

**Okay, look, I know what I said about the next chapter coming in 4-5 days. It was just that I was so excited to continue the story that I have cooking in my head. I didn't want it to disappear before I can put down on text. As an excuse, I'm going to pull this out of the words of Aikuro Mikisugi:**

**"A man's word is only good on the day it's made."**

**So anyway, still loving _Frozen_, I believe you guys are still loving it too, or else you wouldn't be reading this, no?**

**All rights belong to Disney, as usual.**

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**Month-After Notice: Yeah, still hard to believe I used to write like this.**

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Chapter 2

Today's the Day

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_Start of Day One_

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"Elsa! Elsa! Wake up! The sun's awake!"

"Yeah Elsa! Today's the big day!"

"It's too early in the morning!"

"Elsaaaaa..."

"Fine!"

Elsa opened her eyes, and nearly choked in shock. A giant, brilliantly orange carrot was pointed at her, followed by a misshapen white face. It stared at her with the widest grin anything can possess, with fat flakes of snow dancing in the air around it. In alarmed surprise, Elsa pushed herself out of her bed quickly as possible, only to have her head crash into something hard and sharp. The Snow Queen's vision flashed white in pain, and she fell back onto her mattress in heap, feeling around for what will surely become a new bump on her skull.

"Ow! Owowow... Talk about a wake-up alarm... Oh, Elsa! You're not hurt, are you?"

Elsa raised her throbbing head at the voice's source. A young woman had been looking at her, her bright blue eyes full of warmth, even as she was rubbing her chin in pain. Her little pigtails have grown into two copper braided locks that fell down her shoulders, and the girl's once pudgy, freckled face developed into that of a joyous lady, one who loved all and deserved to be loved.

"A-Anna?"

The redhead's face brightened, and she tilted her head in curiosity. "Hm? Me? You are talking about me, and not some other Anna in this room, right?"

"W-What are you doing here? How did you get into my room?" In any other circumstance, Elsa would have been shouting in fear. She would have panicked, scrambling to stay as far away from Anna as the walls surrounding her could permit.

But, out of sheer dumb luck for Anna, Elsa was just so _tired,_ she couldn't be bothered to flee. She didn't even try remembering why she and her baby sister must be separated in the first place.

Instead, Elsa chose to point at the creature standing besides Anna, whose existence must be addressed first. "What is that thing there?..." she asked tiredly. Upon closer inspection, the creature was a snowman, one that was somehow carried into her room. A cloud drifted above its head, producing a flurry of snow that fell lazily without ever actually touching the ground. The snowman possessed a rather nostalgic air to it, one of happier times long past.

Both the small figure and the girl glanced at each other, their smiles faltering.

"Elsa..." Anna asked tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Something clicked in Elsa's exhausted mind, allowing her to form coherent thoughts again. "You've grown."

"Pfft. Well, yeah! Of course I would have grown! I could have sworn that when I was with Kristoff yesterday, I was able to meet eye-to-eye with his nose! Or would that be eye-to-nose? And maaaayyyybe I was standing on my tippy toes..."

"Anna, I'm sorry."

"I even think he was- wait, what? What do you have to be sorry about?"

"It was just a dream, that's all." Elsa seated herself on her bed. As she grew older, Elsa never permitted her platinum hair to go wild, even in sleep. Rather than sticking in all directions as they had when she was younger, the strands fell down her shoulders and back with the utmost grace of a queen's. "I'm still getting used to the Open Door Policy." Elsa peered at Anna and the snowman, her eyelids still gritty and heavy. "Ah, you're Olaf. Did you two sleep well last night?"

Anna's previously crestfallen features turned into a cheerfulness so alarmingly fast, Elsa's weary mind threatened to black out. "I should say the same to you! You must have slept really well, considering you were in bed since, like, 8 o'clock last night-"

"-And you did not come down for breakfast this morning!" Olaf added.

"Oh. I'm sorry to have bothered you two, then."

"No! It's no bother for either of us at all!" Anna and Olaf protested. "But..." Anna continued, slightly sheepish. "You might wanna get something in your system right now. It's 11 in the morning, and I really, really don't want you to pass out today when you head outside..."

"Outside... Wait, outside? Outside for what?"

"Wow, you must have been sleeping REALLY heavily. Not that that's a bad thing, I don't think... Or is it? Maybe if there was a fire, and you couldn't wake up-"

"Anna. You're rambling. What's going on?

"Well, today's your first Royal Visit! You're heading to town in, uh... 30 minutes!"

In eighteen years, Anna had never seen Elsa jump out of her bed. In eighteen, long-awaited years, Anna had never seen Elsa besides the pinnacle of dignity and sophistication. Always moving with grace unattainable to her sister, always as cool and collected as a tranquil night.

Today, Anna was fortunate to have bore witness to the wondrous, valuable sight of Elsa in a state of wild unrest. The Queen literally flew from her mattress, scattering bed sheets everywhere, completely under-dressed, jabbering incoherent words, and hyperventilating. She fell to her knees on the floor, and bounced back up, pacing back and forth in rapid succession, spreading small snowflakes everywhere, before zooming out of the door. A thin trail of frost followed behind her.

"Wait, where are you going!" Olaf cried, twiggy arms outstretched. He faced Anna, saying, "I'm going to check out what's happening."

He waddled towards the doorway, spreading snow everywhere, and peeked out. He grinned. "Oh hey, I was just talking about yo-"

An inadvertent kick by the Queen rushing back into her bedroom beheaded the poor snowman, sending his carrot-adorned, smiling face sailing through the hallways. The body raised a hand to feel for the spot where Olaf's head had originally rested on.

"Oh no! Olaf, I'm so sorry!" Elsa exclaimed.

"No problem Elsa," his voice echoed through the halls. "That was a lotta fun! Now, c'mere, body..." The headless body waddled out of the doorway, into the hallway. Naturally, it walked to the opposite direction of where its head flew. "Nonono! Come back!" Olaf cried.

Elsa rushed over and quickly grabbed the walking snowman, turning it towards the right direction. It gave her a thumbs up in response.

"Thanks Elsa! I'll see you at the gates, guys!"

Elsa entered her bedroom and sat in front of her dresser, face flushed and still breathing rather rapidly. Anna, who had standing in the same spot since Elsa's little panic episode, stared at her with wide eyes in astonishment.

Elsa giggled nervously, her eyes shifting everywhere. Her hands lied on the table, trembling. "C-can you help me with my hair, Anna? I don't think I can concentrate very well..."

Anna pointed at herself, still stunned. "Me? You are talking about me, right? Of course you are talking about me." She stood behind Elsa, braiding the Queen's hair. "You do not seem to be yourself, sis."

Elsa sighed. "No, I'm not." She gave her beloved baby sister a wistful look through the mirror, admiring the positive energy Anna always seemed to carry around with her. "I'm such a coward. You can tell I am scared, right?"

"Scared?" Anna was confused. "Why would you be scared? It's just a required visit to town, to see how everyone is doing. Me, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven do it all the time! Except, well, they weren't really required and all-"

"Yes, but there will be so many people there! I-I don't think I can bear the sight of seeing them all. Oh, they are probably still afraid of me..."

"What about that ice rink you made for everyone two or three weeks ago? It was such a beautiful act that you did! Everyone was happy, especially you!"

Elsa forced herself a pained smile in response. "I was just happy I was able to do everyone a favor, and give you what you deserved for once." She thought of fearful eyes all around in the darkness, throwing her accusing looks for the pain and cold she had made them suffer, invading her conscience. She shook her head, sighing. "I'm still not good with people."

Anna felt a chill beneath her feet. A thick coat of white frost had been emanating down Elsa's seat, and spreading onto the carpet floor. Snow began falling, without any apparent source to produce it.

"Elsa?" She finished the braiding.

Y-yes?" Elsa swallowed hard. She looked at the mirror, pulling her braid over her shoulder. The resulting hair was not unlike what she wore as the Snow Queen.

"Just look at the mirror... Look at yourself. Do you see how beautiful you are? How much courage and love you possess?" Anna laid her hands on her sister's cold, pale shoulders. She could feel Elsa's body shiver and tense up. "You gave me everything that I could have ever wished for. You opened the door, and let me in, for the first time in thirteen years. You are not a coward. You are the best sister I could ever have, and don't you forget it."

The snow slowed to a stop, hanging in the air as if by invisible strings. A long minute passed in a slow crawl, serving only to highlight the tension that filled the room. Then, the frost lifted itself off the floor, clinging to the edge of Elsa's clothes. Ice crept inwards, towards her center, transforming her sleepwear into an elegant dress, lined with extra ice to form rosemåling patterns. Enchanted cloth woven from snow rested onto her neck like a high collar, fanning out into a glittering cape. The hanging snowflakes fixed themselves into Elsa's platinum blonde hair, letting the sunlight dance even more from her head.

"Anna..."

"Yes?"

"I'm fine now. Thank you." She plucked a lipstick from her dresser. "I'll meet you at the gates soon. Don't worry about me."

Anna grinned. "I knew you could do it. Do you want some tea before you go?"

Elsa smiled back at her. "Yes, that sounds wonderful."

"Okay! Great!" Anna's hands sunk further down Elsa's shoulders before wrapping around into a hug from behind. She wanted to convey her love and pride for her sister, who has been through so much, and progressed so well. Elsa reacted with a shiver of surprise. Her skin was cool to the touch.

After a short while, Anna let go of her sister, and dashed out of the door. Before it closed, she poked her head back in. "Um, bye!" She waved her hand at Elsa before disappearing once more.

Elsa waved back, and returned to her make-up. The woman in the mirror stared hard at her with accusation.

_You cheated, Elsa. You have been looking at Anna the entire time._

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_6 hours ago..._

A lone, stout figure stood on a hilltop overlooking a huge forest, one so massive it stretched for miles, expanding into the horizon and meeting with the starry sky. The creature held a crooked staff made of aged wood, decorated with large crystals that glowed and hummed with power. His mane of wild hair bristled in the night breeze. Despite his comically large nose, his wizened, stern eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and tightened mouth formed a face that was intensely grave.

A small, rounded stone, covered in moss, rolled up the hill and came to a stop next to the creature, before turning into another figure similar in build.

"What is it, Grand Pabbie?"

"The Spøkelse of Ravendall. It has found its way through the Lost Woods."

"Oh, oh no. It'll be heading for Arrendelle! We have to warn the kingdom! Tell them to run!"

"That would have been the correct choice, generations ago. Unfortunately, it has grown too strong to be subdued forever. It will plague other lands, forever chasing the work of Adam the Adventurer. The threat has to be annhilated."

"But we can't possibly do that! We aren't human!"

"We can't, I agree. But, _they_ can." Grand Pabbie turned to the younger troll. "Have Helge send word to the Queen and the princess, tell them to find their Father's book! Quickly!"

The troll began to scamper, but he stopped himself. He looked at Grand Pabbie in confusion. "But, what will you do, Pabbie?"

The old Troll King tightened his grip on the staff. "It is much too strong for me to stop it now. The best I can do is to slow it down, until the Queen is ready." He brandished his staff, waving it at different angles, and muttered ancient runes of power. _How long has it been since I had to use this,_ he thought. _How many centuries ago was it..._ The air shivered in response to his incantations, and a golden light pulsed from the yellow crystals fixed in the troll's staff. It washed over the forest, causing the leaves to stir and rattle as if by a strong wind.

_Elsa, do you still doubt yourself? Do you still believe yourself to be alone and powerless to help anyone, even with all the gifts that have been given to you?_

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**Aaaaannnnd we got another one down! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be available, but its not like I put all of my focus into school. 4-5 days sounds about right to me. **

**Like I said, please, please leave a review. I want to read feedback, no matter how sickeningly sweet or bitter! For example, are my characters acting out-of-character? I hate it when people are acting OOC by accident, unless they risk triggering my OCD! Get it? Haha... (As a disclaimer, I'm sorry for using a lame OCD joke to people who genuinely have OCD. I will never be able to understand what is it like to have OCD, and I commend you for being strong enough to push through despite the many, many difficulties it poses.)**

**So, reviews! Give it to me! Or else, I might not be able to improve my writing. Thank you all for reading this, and good afternoon! See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen!_**


	3. Ch 3: An Open Door

**Hello, dear fans of _Frozen_! I kept my promise! I released it into the wild within 5 days! **

**I'd like to celebrate the fact that _Frozen _won the Golden Globe for Best Animated Feature, the first of the Disney Animated Canon films to have done so, as well as breaking more than $700 million in the box office. Without even reaching China yet. Seriously, that is quite the feat.**

**Again, I cannot thank you guys enough for taking your time to read this story. **

**As a side note, I made a few editing changes to the previous chapters. Nothing that merits a second look, mostly a needed quotation mark here, and a less repetitive word there, except for The Rant, which has something at the bottom for anyone interested.**

**As usual, all rights to _Frozen_ belong to Disney, along with many, many other things. I'm looking at you, you freaking giant entertainment empire!**

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Chapter 3

An Open Door

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"Tea, Your Majesty. Courtesy of your sister." The plump man bowed to the Queen without spilling a single drop from the cup he held.

"Thank you, Kai."

Elsa was at ease around one of her most loyal staff. He had served his masters as far back as she could remember, working as both butler and messenger for the Royal Family. Kai was so integral in running the Palace service efficiently for years, he became one of the few men trusted enough to continue providing support, as well as stability, during Elsa's thirteen years of isolation.

Elsa took the ornate, steaming cup and saucer from Kai, and sipped gently. She felt the tea's heavenly aroma fully occupying her sense of smell, as vibrantly fragrant as the exotic palace flowers, and the tea's warmth spreading throughout her entire body, a delicious, tingly sensation. It began in her core, and laced its way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

In her pleasure, all the Snow Queen could say to the servant was, "Kai, this tea is amazing..."

In truth, she wished to express her full bliss to him with more than a simple, but an issue tugged at the back of her mind with the persistence of a pest. Elsa's gaze wandered around the Grand Hall as she finished the rest from her cup, and her dark eyebrows, contrasting against her nigh-white hair, furrowed. Neither Anna nor Olaf were anywhere to be seen, and she was expected to be in town for a meal in ten minutes. "Where are those two? I thought they would be here waiting for me."

"Ah yes, the princess and Your Majesty's snowman. They had... urgent matters at hand, and will be unable to attend the Royal Visit with you."

"What!?" Elsa couldn't believe what Kai had announced. She began to feel an itch crawl up her back, powerful and irritating. That is not even mentioning her hands. She dug her nails into them, and realized that there were no gloves to cover her dangerous skin. Her breath shortened, and lightheadedness threatened to topple her over. The air dropped a few degrees in temperature.

Kai, thanks to years of servitude under the most turbulent family in living memory, maintained his composure in front of the now-frenzied Queen. Nevertheless, he understood Elsa's reaction, and planned ahead. He dug around his pockets, and procured a crumpled piece of paper for her to see. "I have a note written by them before they left."

The note was hardly larger than a playing card, and was covered hastily written scribbles. Kai peered at it, and cleared his throat, loud enough to capture Elsa's attention. With the most deadpan expression he could deliver, he read, "'Gone fishing.'"

A frantic Elsa stared at him with befuddled eyes. "H-huh?"

"Ah. Wrong part, didn't realize it was crossed out..."

Elsa was at a loss for words.

"'Super-special da-' No, this one too... 'Kristoff and I-' ...How risqué. Here it is." He cleared his throat once more. "'Queen Elsa, Olaf and I will not be able to attend the Royal Visit with you today, because I have some really, really serious... stuff. Yeah, that's right, stuff that I gotta do with Kristoff. Me and Olaf and Kristoff and Sven. Together. Immediately. I will not be able to see you, find you, contact you, talk to you, or possibly rescue you from the masses until I am done with this urgent-" He squinted his eyes. "-thing. Things. Signed by Princess Anna of Arrendelle.'"

Kai folded the note neatly, and promptly slipped the piece of paper back inside his pockets. "She always did write as she thinks." he sighed. "I can't say that her handwriting has done much to improve my eyesight. Also, you would have thought she could spell her own kingdom's name without two 'r's' by now..."

Elsa was not paying much attention. Instead, she was pacing back and forth, running her hands over her hair in frustration, causing errant strands of platinum to fly free. _Curse you, Anna! Running off with Kristoff when I needed you the most! You're certainly going to have fun and easy without me, whatever you are doing, while I am forced to deal with this nightmare of a situation... Stupid Anna... _Elsa's train of thought came to an abrupt halt, and she choked. She was being angry. Jealous. _Oh no, Anna! What was I thinking!? I owe Kristoff so much for helping my sister! For protecting her because I couldn't..._

_For being there because I wasn't._

Elsa, being who she was, could not sweat. Instead, she left dancing snowflakes in her wake. She suddenly came to a stop inside the hall, holding herself, isolated from the rest of the world. She felt very much like her Coronation was coming once more, full of loneliness and dreadful anticipation. Not even Olaf or Sven was here to save her. "How selfish can I be? What am I going to do?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her hands.

_Where could my gloves be? _

She was no longer an adult, but a young, terrified little girl again. Elsa could imagine all of the eyes that will be staring at her, harsh and piercing. There will be no one to help her ignore them. "W-What happens if this all goes horribly wrong?" she stammered to herself. "What if I plunge the kingdom into eternal winter again? I'll be a danger to Arendelle! My people will hate me e-even more! They'll chase me out! How ca-

"Elsa."

The Queen's head whipped around to face Kai. The squat, balding man had been standing in the same spot since her loss of control. His voice came out, strong and authoritative. "It is unbecoming of a queen to be afraid of her own people." His stern face broke into an expression full of sympathy for her. "Especially for someone with as much capability for boldness as you." Kai lifted the Queen's hands, ignoring her shocked gasp, and placed them lightly within his own. Elsa could feel the heat from his callused palms. "I have the utmost confidence that you will succeed and cherish this day, and that I speak for many of us." His brown eyes locked onto Elsa's bright blue, making sure she heard every word he said. He proceeded to gently brush her shoulders. "You're getting snow everywhere."

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. She looked around, realizing that not only were there piles of snow littering the Grand Hall, tracing her nerve-induced pathways, but the floor was covered in a thick coat of ice.

"Oh no! I'm very, very sorry for troubling you, Kai..."

"Not at all. I am happy to serve under the Queen, Your Majesty." He bowed, long and low. "I understand the difficulty posed for you, but listen; You have nothing to fear_._ Now go on and have fun."

Elsa could not help but feel touched by his sentiment. "Thank you." She considered her next words before speaking them aloud. "If Anna and the others return before me, tell them that I will be home soon." The sentence tasted strange in her mouth. Kai's raised eyebrows further confirmed the strangeness of such a statement, considering it was _Elsa,_ the introverted shut-in extraordinaire, who said it.

The Snow Queen walked to the tall, dark and imposing castle doors leading into the courtyard. She paused directly in front of them. Less than three weeks before, she had bolted out in the night, desperate to run as far away from her kingdom as possible. Now, she's attempting to do the exact opposite. She prevented herself just as she began admiring the grain of the wood used to make the doors, and glanced besides her. Kai was looking back with concerned eyes, waiting patiently for the Queen's next move. Giving in to the inevitable, Elsa closed her eyes, breathed twice through her nose, inhaling and exhaling.

_There is nothing to fear._

Half a minute passed, and Elsa open her eyes, ready. She pushed the doors open. Summer sunlight shot through the opening, a thousand times brighter than any candle or lantern within the palace, briefly paining her eyes. She could smell the fresh air, full of scents that mixed together until they were unidentifiable. The summer breeze brushed past her face, and lifted her cape gently. Trees made of ice and the castle's rooftops glittered and sparkled like fire, remnants of the celebration not so long ago. She could hear the fountains gurgling with water, seagulls chirping with cacophony, and the sound of ship bells coming from the around the fjord. Even in all of this din, she could hear the chatter, hoots, and calls from Arendelle's marketplace. In the palace gates beyond, left opened due to the Open Door Policy, she could see the stone bridge leading into town. Embracing the shining sun's light and warmth, she walked down the courtyard, admiring the different sensations.

"Queen Elsa!"

The Queen turned around. Kai was calling from the castle doors. "That was a wonderful thing you did with the courtyard almost three weeks ago! I hope you can hold another event like that soon!"

Elsa's face flushed at his compliment, and experienced heat different from the sun. As she waved to the portly man, it suddenly occurred to her that, until the disastrous Coronation, Kai, Gerda, and the other servants were the closest people she had to friends. They cooked and cared for her without question, and did much to alleviate some of her years of loneliness. Kai himself was always the one to remove furniture and carpets inevitably damaged by ice, taking advantage of his build to require as little assistance, and consequently as little questions, as possible. The day her parents... left for that wedding, Kai took extra time replacing the largest, most difficult to replace effects just so he couldn't leave Elsa alone in her mourning.

She thought of their assistance and hard work over the years, their care and concern, and a wave of love and gratitude for them washed over her.

From behind one of the sparkling fountains, two pairs of eyes peeked out, one blue, the other brown. They followed Elsa out of the castle gates, where a couple of Royal Guards saluted to her, and disappeared once she was out of sight.

* * *

Kai closed he doors and smiled to himself. _Mission accomplished_. Queen Elsa forgot to defrost the hall before she left, but at least he performed his duty in assisting both the ruler and the Princess. He had no idea what Anna could be up to, but it is most likely harmless, considering her deep love for Queen Elsa.

_These two... Looks like I still have many years of duty ahead of me. _He chuckled, not bothered at all by this thought. _Your parents would be so proud. _Kai tugged at his sleeves, ready for what will surely be a hard day's labor at scraping the frost away before anyone could carelessly slip and break a skull. It was to his great surprise when he turned around, and discovered that the ice vanished.

* * *

_4 hours ago..._

"Grunt" "Snork"

"Hey, hey, what's up with you, buddy?"

Sven gave another impatient snort. _Get up, lazybones._

Kristoff had always understood whatever Sven tries to get across, even doing voice-overs for his best friend when he was feeling particularly empathetic. Groggy as he was from just waking up, however, he was in no mood to shift the required mental gears.

He heard the familiar whinnies of neighboring horses. He opened his eyes, and remembered he wasn't homeless; he was taken in by the royal sisters weeks ago. His clothes, which originally had been freshened and clean for the first time in months, was littered with musty hay.

"Uh, why am I in the stables?"

A reindeer gave him a deadpan look.

"Right, I was taking a break from yesterday's adventure. And then I fell asleep on this... yeesh, this stuff is filthy." He stood up, sending strands of hay everywhere. His eyes adjusted to the morning sun, which shined cheerily in spite of Kristoff's dour mood. "I swear, that girl will shorten my lifespan by a few years with all of the running around and the hustling..."

"But you still love Anna, no? And that is all that matters, yes?"

Kristoff sighed. "As usual, you are correct."

"Then, what's your issue?"

He scratched at his head, sending more pieces of hay falling down. "It's not like I can't catch up with her, of course I can! It's just that Anna occasionally forgets that not everyone is like her. I just have a slight-" Kristoff paused. He looked cautiously at the reindeer, who looked back at him in slight confusion. "Sven..." Kristoff said, suspicious. "I wasn't voicing you. You didn't suddenly develop the capability to perform human speech, did you?"

The reindeer tilted his head. _Who, me?_

"Ahem."

Kristoff looked down, around, behind, and found something standing at the corner of the royal stables. Anyone else would have thought someone placed a lumpy, moss-covered, misshapen statue as a bizarre practical joke. But Kristoff, raised by them for much of his childhood, immediately recognized what it was.

"Helge! It's good to see you again!" Kristoff laughed, and bent over and gave the troll a hug, no easy feat given the vast height differences. The small creature did the same, albeit a little stiffly. The troll's necklace, made of blue glowing crystals and a single yellow one, jangled. "You must have been really pushing yourself, staying mobile in the morning! How's Bulda?"

"Please, this is nothing to me. And Bulda's in great shape. She had been rolling plans around for the next time you visit us with your girlfriend."

Kristof's cheeks turned pink. "Oh, that? Well, we're still tak-"

"-Kristoff." Helge interrupted. His face hardened into concern for the young man. "I'm worried for you."

"Wait, what?"

"If that's truly what you feel, if you two really do love each other, then you and Anna should have agreed to sleep the same bedroom earlier, instead of having you stay in this pitiful straw bed."

Kristoff sputtered.

"Now now," Helge continued, his chest rising as he began to inhale. As per troll tradition, he was going to burst into some melodic, long-winded tirade about love. as only love experts should be expected to do.

In a bout of luck that reaffirmed Kristoff of the existence of an higher, loving power, Olaf's head tumbled into the stables, a miniature snow flurry chasing it. The head came to a stop, face-down, right in front of the two. It peeked at both of them, and squealed an exclamation of delight. "Oh look, Kristoff's family is here!"

"Kristoff's family?" A voice replied. "But I don't remember Kristoff ever mentioning his relatives, or anything about-" A young woman, carrying a large sack in one hand, and leading a headless snowman by the wooden arm in the other, walked into the stables. Her twin plaits ran down her shoulders, and she was so freckled, it gave her a permanent faux blush. The lady spotted Helge. "...siblings."

Kristoff just drank in her presence, a goofy smile spreading unconsciously across his face. Any grievances he had about Anna faded away, replaced by warm love and affection. She smiled back at him, opening the sack to reveal carrots, and bent over to pick up Olaf's head. Upon having its head restored to its original position, the snowman turned away to spit hay from its mouth.

Anna knelt down on one knee to greet the troll. "Hey there little guy, what's your name?"

"It is an honor to be in your presence, Princess Anna." Helge gave a bow. "My name is Helge, and I hail from the Valley of the Living Rock. For the last five years, I have been under Grand Pabbie's tutelage to become the next shaman."

Olaf lifted his head in amazement. "Wow, that's incredibly long! Like, a hundred times longer than my age!" Kristoff chuckled, knowing that Olaf has no idea what he was talking about. "How much time will it take for you to become shaman? Helga's a weird name for a male, by the way. Maybe it's different for trolls?..."

The troll, evidently not catching onto the last comment, gave a crooked smile. "It will take about an age." He shook his head. "But enough about me, I have not come here for a simple family reunion. Grand Pabbie sent me." Kristoff looked at the troll in surprise. Helge regarded Anna seriously. "Anna, Is Elsa with you?"

"Uh. No! She's still asleep."

"How is she doing?"

"I think she is doing great! She has a busy schedule, but she always finish early to make time for us! She's always so quiet, but I've never seen her happier. Then again, I haven't ever seen her much until recently."

"What about her powers? How are they progressing?"

"Oh, she would occasionally freeze a rug or two. I think it's mostly because she thinks too hard, and it's not like she shoots ice by accident. Besides, we always fix it quickly in the end!"

The troll sounded cautious. "'We.'"

"Yes..." Anna drew the answer out, confused. "'We.' I'm always there to help Elsa out of her funk! It's the least I can do for my sister."

"How often are these... 'funks?'"

"Pfft, I don't know, it's not like I'm counting." Anna sounded a little defensive, perhaps for both herself and her big sister.

Olaf raised his hand high. "Oh, oh! I counted, Helga. Maybe its once or twice a day, or something..."

Helge, still not hearing the misnomer, pursed his lips. "She can mange her releases," he muttered, "but not the freq-" He noticed everyone staring, perplexed. "Listen, I do not want to stir panic this early, but you all will need Elsa's powers very, very soon. You, Kristoff, Sven, the townsfolk, the surrounding kingdoms and countries-"

"Wait, what?"

"Pabbie and I have a plan to help, though! We have three days until it comes. I'll explain it tonight, but for now, we make haste." The troll's feet started to lose what little color it had. He tried to move them, shifting his weight, but they remained fixed to the wooden floor. The desaturation crawled up to his knees, and he sighed in exasperation. "My record was up to noon..." Anna and Olaf gasped in shock, worried for the little troll. Kristoff merely shared a look of with Sven. Both were accustomed to troll behavior and habits. Besides, he trusted his adoptive family, including Helge. "What can we do to help?"

"You and Kristoff should be fine, but apparently Elsa still have much progress on managing herself- DON'T interrupt, please." he added to a suddenly very affront Anna. She pouted and crossed her arms. Kristoff could just see the steam rising from her strawberry-blonde hair. "She probably have learned and gained enough from Anna as it is. It's about time she puts it to use." He strained to faced them directly, wincing. "I assume the Royal Visit is today?"

Anna had her mouth shut tightly, which was a first. Kristoff was the one who responded. "Uh... yes."

"She's gonna bond with her people?"

"Well, obviously. Isn't that what Royal Visits are for?"

"Give her as much time to get up as possible, so she won't think too much before the event."

"Okay..."

And don't attend it with her-"

Anna, forgetting she was supposed to be silent, exploded incredulously. "WHAT!?"

"Just follow her, make sure she is safe..."

"I'm going to miss my sister's first Royal Visit!?" In her rage, she was being very un-Anna-like. Helge was not doing much to ease her temper, only shifting and curling into a ball. "Over my dead body you... y-you... you troll!" she shrieked, pointing a finger. The said troll didn't budge.

"It's no use, Anna. He's held out long enough in the sunlight as it is." Kristoff couldn't help but smirk as he walked over to settle her down. He fished a carrot out of the bag. "Helge really outdid himself this time. I remembered like it was only yesterday when he gave up after only 4 minutes into the morning light. Oh man, the fire crystals he lost in that bet..." He offered the carrot to Sven, who happily took a big crunch, and offered the rest to Anna. Anna grimaced slightly at the reindeer drool glistening in the sun, and shook her head.

"Do we really have to listen to this guy? 'Don't attend it with her'?" She sounded insecure, and shot a dirty look at the round stone, which, despite its lack of anything that can be related to expressions, she could have sworn appeared smug.

"Yeah," said Olaf, mirroring Anna as best he could. At least, he gets points for trying, anyway. "We can't just leave Elsa alone, she's so nice! She needs us." He waddled over to pet Sven on the muzzle. "Must we do what Helga said?"

"Technically, no." Kristoff took a bite of the carrot. "But I trust in Helge's and Pabbie's judgment. We do take up much of Elsa's focus, after all." He paused to mull over his words. "Speaking as a bit of a loner myself, I don't think Elsa would have wanted to be with anyone else when we are around. Maybe your sister can make friends besides us for a change."

"Friends. right..."

Olaf giggled. "Elsa can make more new friends? Anna!" Eyes wide, he tugged at the hem of her dress. "Let's try listening to Helga."

Kristoff rolled his eyes at the happy-go-lucky snowman, and returned his attention to Anna. "I know you have your doubts about what Helge has in mind, and I can understand any that still remains. But Grand Pabbie wouldn't send a troll beyond the Valley, not even one like Helge, without it being really, really serious. Do you believe in your sister?"

Anna sniffed. "Of course I do!"

"Then this Royal Visit should go over without a hassle. Let's take a seat back. If it gets too heavy for Elsa, we pop in, rescue her, no harm done, and we get Helge to spill the beans."

Anna frowned, and thought long and hard before reluctantly agreeing. "Okay..."

Olaf could hardly maintain his excitement. "Fantastic! Let's get real sneaky, and spy on Elsa as she connects with some strangers! Still a weird name for a boy troll, by the way, Helga..."

Anna shook her head at Olaf. "I don't think you should come with us. The whole kingdom knows you, and you'll attract too much attention."

Olaf look deflated, but picked himself up almost immediately. "Then, I'll go find the servants! I'll get them to agree to the plan!"

"That's brilliant, Olaf!"

"Thanks Anna! Wish me luck!" Olaf ran off with vigor and speed, spreading snow everywhere, ready to search for one of the head servants.

Kristoff clasped his hands together. "Great. Sven, keep an eye on Helge."

The reindeer pulled his head out of the sack of carrots.

"Hide him with you, make sure no one tries to remove him."

The reindeer grunted in reply, sounding bored. Anna rubbed his fur assuredly. She was learning from Kristoff on how to interpret Reindeer. "Aw, don't be upset, Sven! We'll get you something special in town while we watch over Elsa."

"Anna. Focus." Kristoff rubbed his forehead tiredly, already predicting the day's events. "Let me list off what _we_ are going to do: For reasons we could hardly understand but follow out of blind trust, we are going to have your sister late for her own Royal Visit. Next, we abandon her at the door. Then, we stalk Elsa, the Queen of Ice and Snow, for an entire day, watch as she twists in the wind, making sure nobody starts panicking, and hoping with all our might that she won't find us and freeze us to a wall for days for not letting her in on this half-baked idea! We are _definitely_ bound to survive in one piece."

Anna raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. "Wow... What happened to your support for the trolls? You really think this is going to work?"

"No."

* * *

**Note: If you guys are confused by Helge's little Medusa Moment, here's an explanation: In the Frozen continuity, Trolls are unable to move when the sun is up. They turn back into stone until the night starts rolling again. It's not stated in the movie, but the guidebook said so, and both troll meetings in the film occurred at night. It's a wonder Kristoff is not nocturnal. ****The fact that Helge was able to stay awake and alert into the morning is supposed to be an unusual feat.**

**As another interesting note, this chapter was supposed to cover more of the story. But, surprisingly, it turned out more _meatier_ (4k+ words, woot!)than I expected, so I have to cut the intended chapter in half and hold off writing the rest for a later date.**

**Also, I don't know when will the next chapter will come. Soon, hopefully, since I don't have school Monday. However, I can't make any promises this time, because midterms are looming over the horizon. And by horizon, I mean next week.**

**It's a shame, I didn't feel too happy with this one overall, and I need to know what you guys think.**

**For example: Is this story progressing too slowly? I kept thinking that I devoted too many words for this chapter even though the characters hardly moved anywhere. Did I draw conversations too long? Did I do too much telling, and not enough showing?**

**Again, please, _please_ review. Or at least favorite and follow. Each one gives my heart a little lurch of joy, and the rest of my body follows.**

**Now _that's_**** a bit of an odd image. Good-bye and see you soon, fans of _Frozen!_**


	4. Ch 4: To Move Onward

**One day, I'm going to write a story about Elsa's confused sexuality. One that will end in ambiguity. Not today, not tomorrow, probably not in this linear timeline, but I will at some point, somewhere. It just sounds like a fun idea that will probably annoy a few people. **

**Seriously, I'm not big on romance or smut. I find Canon ships to be tolerable at most, and it just goes downhill from there. Elsanna is adorable, especially with the fluffy fanart, but... sisters. So maybe I am very wrong, but I have not yet read a story where Elsa is considered either bisexual or asexual. While remaining kid-safe. _That's_ seems like an idea that I will inevitably explore, but just not now.**

**So anyway, 5k+ words in two days of writing (plus extra for scrutinizing editing), woot!**

**Checking the _Frozen_ box office has become a weekly habit on mine. It's broken $750 million now. Hip hip, hooray!**

**While writing this, I was watching _The Lion King_. And _How to Train Your Dragon_. Sacrilegious, I know, but it has given me something neat to write about. I don't know if the movies had infected my head enough that I can't see what they have done to this chapter, however, so find out for me, will ya?**

**All rights go to Disney, and absolutely no one else. I cannot forgive Disney Channel, however.**

* * *

Chapter 4

To Move Onward

* * *

For years, Elsa learned not to tap her foot out of impatience or anxiety. It was rude, painfully honest, and quite noisy, especially during the years of isolation and closed doors in the once barren palace. Such a sound echoed from one end of the castle to the next, bouncing off the walls, the suits of armor, and the furniture.

Predictably, the rapid tapping of feet used to be an indicator of Anna's presence.

Instead, Elsa chewed on her smoked salmon long after it was a messy and dry pulp, not swallowing at all. Her stomach growled, but she didn't have any appetite whatsoever. Elsa could feel it, an invisible, a near-tangible tension pressing itself against her back. It gave her shivers and goosebumps down her spine, although she could never feel the cold. She had chosen to sit in a corner, faced away from the rest of the chattering restaurant patrons, so she would have an easier time pretending they didn't exist.

_It is unbecoming of a queen to be afraid of your own people_.

But how can she not? From the moment she stepped inside the building, the burly and armed Captain of the Guard by her side, a hush drew over the crowd as if somebody just died. The silence was broken by the scraping of chairs, and all of the adults hastily stood up to bow to her. Only the children, who had little idea what was going on, stayed in their seats.

Elsa closed her eyes, desperately trying to focus on her meal. She wasn't used to eating in such a public and crowded place. The clangs of silverware against plates, the incessant chatter, the shouting of chefs, and the squeals of angry little kids grated against her ears. For years, she was accustomed to having her meals sent by Gerda in her bedroom, where she ate in complete, and sometimes miserable, silence. For the past few weeks, she was merely relearning what it was like to sit at the dinner table again, with company. Sure, Kristoff, Olaf, and Anna were present, making such a scene with all of the hoots, the food-inhaling, the throwing, and whatnot. They could replace any chaos in a restaurant all by their lonesome, but that was just them. Elsa felt comfortable and loved there, with everything around that troubled her nonexistent. They were family.

And now there were none to help her ignore the flashes of curious eyes.

"More water, Your Majesty?" A waiter, dressed in uniform and apron, held up a tin pitcher. If Kristoff were here, he'd say that the waiter's chin is sharp enough to split blocks of ice.

Elsa opened her lips to reply, but remembered her mouth was still full of fish. She swallowed, and coughed a little, her faint freckles rendered invisible by her warm cheeks. "Yes, please." She raised her empty glass hesitantly.

"Are you feeling alright, Milady?"

Elsa gave the waiter an inquiring glance, and saw that her hand was in violent tremors, shaking her glass unconsciously. She placed the cup down, perhaps a bit too forcefully, and took a few deep breathes to regain her composure. Cool steam came forth from her dark lips, in spite of the restaurant's heat and the summer air.

A voice inside her head scolded her, sounding familiar in pitch and tone. _You're the Queen of Ice and Snow! Cool, frosty, all that stuff! More than that, you are the Queen of Arendelle! You should be socializing!_

_But how?_

Elsa thought about her sister, who was _supposed_ to be with her, chatting up a storm as if no one else existed. As a young woman good with people, Anna could strike a conversation with anyone, or at least rope them in helplessly. Elsa was completely jealous of her sister's talents. Anna could make friends easily. What would she have done in this situation?

_Think like Anna_...

"Excuse me," Elsa called out. The words costed almost all of her aplomb. "Sir?"

_Oh no, that was a complete mistake..._

The waiter, who was prepared to return to his station, widened his eyes. "I-I'm sorry, are y-you referring to me?" He evidently never thought the Queen would pay attention to a lowly subject like him, unless if he fouled up her lunch horribly. There was fear and anticipation marring his thin face.

"Um..." The words lodged themselves in Elsa's throat; she was just as afraid herself. The entire world was now conspiring against her, for the restaurant hushed itself, the scraping of forks against plates silenced. Elsa's eyes darted back and forth like a cornered animal. She could feel the attention all focused between her and the poor waiter. With little association to Elsa's powers, the atmosphere became frostier. Her back began itching something fierce. A few mutters slithered among the crowd, no doubt of disapproval for the Queen.

_Think like Anna..._ Anna, without a care in the world...

"B-beautiful weather we're having today..."

That's how Anna would have said, right?

The young waiter blinked, and looked out a window before replying. "Yes, yes it is..." Then, he walked away, quickly as he could without making it seem rude. He will have time to cheer for catching the beautiful Queen's attention later, but he's currently just plain terrified. The restaurant's sound levels slowly resumed back to its original state.

Elsa's cheeks were positively burning now. She didn't know whether to pat herself in the back for progress, or slap her forehead in embarrassment. She decided the latter will suffice. The resultant sting did little to help the headache that was coming around. She sighed, and rubbed her temples with two fingers.

_Can't this day get any longer?_

* * *

The Guard stationed outside of the restaurant stood resolute, but not at all stiff. With dark hair, strong shoulders, towering height, massive arms, and a very well-groomed mustache, he caught the attention of many a random passersby, mostly women. He was a soldier for years, with the accolades and the scars to prove it.

He was also one of the men who assisted in the Siege of the North Mountain Summit under Hans' leadership.

In any other circumstance, he would have done his best to make sure no one gets through to the Queen. Not a single hair on her platinum blonde hair would have been touched by anyone. Instead, he stood outside the door, only looking for strange sights; he was painfully aware of the strength and power of the Snow Queen, and would only require to serve as her eyes.

He thought about the recent turn of events. His Queen had taken to dressing in snow gowns, reminiscent of the one she wore when she was discovered and captured during the Siege. They varied in both style and levels of conservation, but each one sparkled and shined like the sun against the sea.

Still, despite the flashier getup that suggested confidence, Elsa was still the same timid, quiet girl who would prefer to lock herself away from the rest of the world, rather than open up and risk hurting anyone, including herself.

_Captain of the Royal Guard, Arvid of Arendelle, at your service. I will be your escort for the day._

_Thank you, Arvid._

_Your Majesty...?_

_Just... call me Elsa. I appreciate all of the hard work you have done, protecting this castle and my family for years past._

A shot of pain and remorse stabbed his heart, an icicle of self-criticism and doubt. He was almost responsible for his Queen's unjustified execution, had Anna not sacrificed herself out of True Love. It was something he could never have achieved, and it ached within him. Ever since he was old enough to fight, Arvid wanted nothing but to protect his wife and country. Yet, he utterly failed on that day, and nearly exterminated the royal family out of dumb blindness. While Queen Elsa have not taken offense to his sin, Arvid saw the Eternal Winter as the greatest shame of his long career.

Which is why, when he saw a pair of bright blue eyes peeking over a barrel of apples in the distance, he merely shook his head and gestured at his own eyes, rather than come over and shake the suspicious person until her insides rattled. The sapphire eyes widened in understanding, and disappeared. He glanced behind him into the restaurant window, seeing the increasingly distraught Queen.

_Princess Anna, I hope you know what you're doing._

* * *

"Coffee Cake, Your Majesty."

"Oh, thank you very kindly." Elsa forced a smile at the waiter.

_Thank you very kindly, indeed, _Elsa thought bitterly. _This restaurant debacle was taking too long. Just hide for another hour, and you can go back home!_

_But you haven't "connected" with a single townsfolk! Think! _

_Think like Anna!_

Elsa took a deep breath, turned towards to the eating patrons, and tapped a lone woman sitting nearby. The woman possessed crow's feet, but boasted a hefty build, with a broad face and broad shoulders, that screamed of strength and resolution. While chewing on her lutefisk, she gave Elsa a stare that was neither maleficent nor friendly.

Elsa nearly forgot what she was about to say. She glanced at her cake. Food._ Food. Right._

"This restaurant sure serves some impressive cuisine, doesn't it?"

The woman stared back at her with piercing, intelligent eyes, silent and indecipherable.

"Um... I suppose you haven't eaten dessert yet? I think it's even more delicious than what they cook at the palace." Elsa kicked herself mentally. The cake laid in plain sight, untouched.

The woman continuing staring. Then, she pointed a thick, gnarled finger. Elsa followed the woman's direction, and realized her cup was starting to frost over. She snapped her hand back. Her heart was beating rapidly, drumming itself against her ears.

"I know you are trying your hardest."

Elsa blinked. The woman had finally talked back.

"I understand what you are trying to do, but I don't completely approve of you just yet."

Elsa merely nodded at this admission, her face neutral.

"I've never been one for monarchs and anything that deals outside of my home and labor. I've worked in a crop farm for years. Look at this hand." She raised one for Elsa to see, which was thick, scarred, caked with years of dirt, and knobby in many places. "The sun has turned my skin rough and dry, the hard work bowed my back, and my hands are almost always sore from pulling vegetables. If it weren't for my husband, I would have never found love anywhere." Her eyes hardened. "The Eternal Winter you brought on us had not just trapped people in the kingdom with snow. It has also destroyed the crops that farmers like me spent months sowing and tending.

"Your policies later have helped in the aftermath," the woman admitted. "But, I have lived through three generations of rulers," Her voice wasn't malicious, but they carried contempt. "And King Eirik's rule never started this poorly."

Eirik. Her father.

_You will never be as good your parents._

Ice shot out of the glass, spilling downwards and onto the table in jagged patterns. Everyone in the restaurant screamed in surprise.

"Please, everyone just stay calm! I can fix it!" Elsa reached for the glass. It exploded into a crystallized star, its many sides shining brightly like multicolored fire, its wicked points fanning out in all directions.

Elsa saw the fearful looks. There was no longer any light shining through the window, no walls that bordered the rooms. There was only the tightly packed crowds and the starry sky, the air becoming thin from everyone gasping at the same time, and the eyes staring at her, contrasting against the darkness like cold flames. Elsa hands twitched harder.

"Your Majesty," Arvid said. Elsa snapped her attention to him. His mustached face did not belong in the memory, and her world was pulled back to the present. "Would you like me to take you back home?"

"Yes! I mean, n-no! Please, just... just wait!" Arvid looked at her, inquisitive. "I-I need time alone. Please, don't follow me."

Arvid looked uncertain, and his dark eyes darted elsewhere. Finally, he said, "As per your orders, Your Highness."

Elsa stood up from her chair on shaky knees, nearly collapsing to the floor. She refused Arvid's offer for help. Then, she bolted out of the restaurant, her cape billowing everywhere. The air Elsa disturbed was tinged with white flakes.

Arvid sadly watched her as she vanished, and shot a nasty look at the farmer woman. She looked slightly troubled by what she has done, but stuck her chin out at him.

"The Queen has a lot ahead of her before she deserves my respect."

* * *

Elsa ran down the town leading a trail of frost, ignoring the gazes and questions of pedestrians. She slowed to a stop at the harbor, overlooking the whole fjord. The wind from the sea blew strongly, blowing her plait and cape off to a side. Breathing heavily, she placed her hands on her knees to rest, and looked down at the water. There were debris, leaves and sea foam that floated and splashed against the wooden poles in waves, before drifting out into the open water, beyond the kingdom.

Elsa briefly contemplated following them, freeing from all of her troubles and responsibilities forever. The possibility seemed tempting, even delicious. Just let all of her worries, her anxieties, her thoughts melt and wash away in the great beyond...

The waves settled for a brief moment, revealing a mostly undisturbed reflection of Elsa. Her icy blue eyes stared back at her pitifully.

But what about Anna?

_Do you see how beautiful you are?_

_You are not a coward._

If she ran away, Arendelle would be plunged into even greater danger and chaos. She wouldn't want to lump that on anyone, most especially on Anna and her new family.

If she ran now, she would never have had time to say goodbye.

Little chunks of spiky ice burst and crystallized in the water below. Elsa touched her face lightly, and realized it was wet with tears. Another teardrop fell down her chin. Upon contact with the sea water, it spawned another frozen star.

Elsa sat back, curled into a ball, exhausted, and a little scared. She wrapped her cape around her like a translucent, silver security blanket, feeling the caress of the sea breeze stroking her hair. Like that of a kindly and understanding matron, the wind comforted her with its gentle touch.

"Excuse me?"

Elsa glanced to her left side, not lifting her head. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a young man and woman. The man was a bit on the scrawny side, and the lady besides him was clearly pregnant. They both smiled at her, slightly perplexed.

The man introduced himself with a faint, Swedish accent. "My name is Bernt, and this is Alexandra. I didn't think one of your station would be hanging around in here." His voice changed to a curious tone. "Is something the matter?"

Elsa wiped her face, and picked her head up. They looked at each with surprise, fear, and giddiness. "It's the Queen!" They hastily bowed. "Your Majesty!"

"Please," Elsa responded, wincing at the word. ""I'm no Queen. I don't deserve to be. Anna would have made a far improved candidate over me."

"What?" Alexandra asked. "Why?"

"I threw so many troubles at you from the very moment I was crowned. But then, I-I got scared, and ran away. I thought I did everyone a favor, by leaving from their sight. But then, I set an Eternal Winter on all of you!" Elsa hiccuped. "People are still angry, and they have every right to be! I almost ran away again! If there was ever a Queen that was lousy, it would be me!"

The couple looked at each other. "Your Majesty," the man began.

"Please, no..."

"Qu-... uh, _Elsa_." Bernt amended. "I personally think you are very brave. You came back, after all."

"Stop that. I've done nothing but run away. For the past thirteen years, that was all that I have ever done, especially from my own sister."

He scratched his head. "Maybe you did get scared. But that's perfectly normal."

"You think?"

Alexandra answered, "Everyone makes bad choices when they are scared." She tilted her head, pensive. "For years, people have said that you are very cold. You couldn't care less about anyone, which is why the palace doors remained closed even after the K-... yeah." She knelt down so they were wet-eye-to-eye. "But I can see that you are nothing but a sweet, kind girl who's lucky to be younger than me. You ran away because you thought that was how you could help. You believed it was the best option." She shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it was."

Elsa thought to herself. If she stayed on that fateful day, Elsa would have continued to stay locked behind the bedroom door. Anna would still have to live life without anyone besides servants, no friends, no loved ones, no sister. The only thing that would change would be Elsa's title. In a way, the mother-to-be was right. Still...

"B-but... I can't just keep my distance anymore, could I."

"No. I prefer the open gates, thank you very much." Bernt said affirmatively. "So... why did you run away that time?"

""It's... It's because I didn't want anyone to get hurt... To get Anna hurt..."

"Right. You love your sister and country so much, you'd never want to see them despair."

"But that just makes me weak, an awful person..."

"Please," Alexandra interrupted, stern. "You're the Queen of Arendelle, one who can make an ice rink form at the drop of a hat. If I have ever known a person any more powerful, I have never met them... besides my husband of course."

"Aw, thank you, sweet."

"And you aren't an awful person, Queen Elsa. You ran away out of love. If it truly was a bad decision," she leaned forward. "Learn from it. Pick yourself up and rise again."

_Don't run. Move forward._

The woman offered her hand to the Queen.

"Won't I trouble your baby?"

She barked out a laugh. "Please, I need the exercise."

Elsa hesitantly took her hand, and was lifted to her feet with surprising ease. She patted herself down, feeling the expectant gazes of the young couple.

"So while we're on the subject of my pregnancy," Alexandra said, facing Elsa. She was even shorter than the monarch. "Would you, as my Queen, bless my baby?"

Elsa's mind didn't comprehend the last few words. What she heard was a garbled mess, as if she was a young toddler hearing people speak and hold conversations, without understanding the meaning behind the phrases. "E-excuse me?"

"Would you like," the pregnant woman enunciated, "to bless my baby?"

Elsa gasped in shock. "You're child." She looked at the bump. "I-I couldn't..."

"Don't deny her..." Bernt warned, but the woman caught up to Elsa first.

"No! You will not refuse! You are the Queen. If there's anyone who should bless my baby, it should be you!" She grabbed Elsa by the collar with both her hands. Her face was set and resolute. Despite Alexandra's small build, Elsa felt her high heels lift slightly from the ground. She briefly thought she could see a shadow of Anna's spirit and energy within the woman.

"Stop it!" Bernt protested. "You'll get arrested!" He was promptly ignored by his wife.

"B-but couldn't you find a priest? I still don't think I-I'm good enough," Elsa stammered.

"Are you joking?" Alexandra let go of Elsa softly and carefully. Her voice became tender. "I want the best for my kid, and my decision says _you_ are the greatest choice."

Elsa looked down at her hands. Little snowflakes puffed out, and drifted away in the wind. She looked back at them. They gave her half-pleading looks. They trusted her with their child, their unborn baby.

"Okay..." Elsa sighed. She cannot just back out from their request, not anymore. She stuck her hand out tentatively, her gaze pointed away from the couple. Her fingers were a few inches away from the woman's stomach. She scrunched up her eyes, trying hard not to imagine herself freezing the mother. Her face paled in response to the resulting image, a statue of a smiling, pregnant Alexandra, making her lose what color she had left in her skin.

Elsa heard a sigh of exasperation, footsteps on the wood, and the woman covered the rest of the distance. Elsa's hand felt the warm fabric, a round shape, and-

The feeling was electric underneath Elsa's palm. She nearly pulled her hand back out of reflex. She could touch it. A little jolt in the woman's stomach.

The baby had kicked.

Alexandra smiled. "See? I can feel it too; the baby kicked for you! It is a very good judge of character, you know. If you were not good enough, it wouldn't have wanted to meet you that badly."

Elsa just stood like that forever, feeling for the baby's little kicks, and listening to the squawking of seagulls, the slapping of waves against boats. Bernt pulled at his collar nervously. Alexandra cleared her throat. Right. Elsa's eyes widened. She was supposed to bless the baby.

Until her coronation, Elsa had not attended church for years, and she quite frankly didn't worry about such topics until this very moment. She looked at Bernt a little desperately, silently asking him for advice. The man just shrugged, and said, "Anything will do for us."

After much thought, she found the answer within herself. "Excuse me..." Elsa said quietly. "I have never blessed anything before, but... here I go." She took a deep breath, the mother's stomach warm under her pale hand. She placed all of her focus on where her palm rested, until nothing else mattered.

"M-May you always be happy. May you never be shut out from others, may you never fear just because you're different..." She was feeling faint. _Don't forget to breathe, silly._

Elsa's voice grew stronger. "You will have such a life ahead of you when you are born. There is despair, there is loneliness, fear, anger, stress, frustration, and there is pain. When you are in the world, you may feel that life is just so, _so _difficult, it seems hardly worth the trouble."

She thought of her extended family; Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven, all smiling happily and gamboling as they pelted each other with snowballs. "But you cannot just run away and escape from life. There is hope, happiness, and love. Not just the kind of love where you like someone, but True Love. When you are growing up, when you are learning how to live, always understand that you are never alone, wherever you are. In a home, in a city, out at sea, or even as far above in the mountains, there is someone who wants to be with you. That's the special thing about True Love; it's what makes life catch back up with you."

She thought of her mother and father, giving her assuring smiles before they left on a trip to another kingdom. "Your own parents will be there for you when they can, for every step of the way, because they love you. They love you enough to ask the Queen of Arendelle for her blessing. And when they can't..." Elsa swallowed. "You will realize that there are so many, many others who love you just as much, others who will always be happy to help you with any trouble." She was beginning to forget that she was supposed to speak to the pregnant mother, instead talking to herself.

"You will never shun yourself away from others, even if you or they are different, because you shouldn't. You should always strive to make yourself a better person for everyone, because you should.

"You will never lead the life I had, with a painful childhood filled with loneliness and regret. You will live happily for your entire life, surrounded by the people who truly love you, as I am living now."

Elsa's vision was incredibly blurry. She couldn't hold it in anymore; she needed someone like Anna. Elsa spread her arms open. Past her tears, the couple glanced at each other in shock. _That? _From the Queen?

She embraced both of them tightly before they finished processing the situation. They were mildly started, but decided to wrap their arms around her as well.

"Wow... Y-You're colder than we thought."

Elsa herself only felt the gentle heat of the two young people in her arms. After a minute, they slowly unwrapped themselves from each other.

Wiping away her tears, Elsa sniffed, smiling. "Thank you. You two made me feel a lot better about myself." Both father and mother-to-be swelled with pride. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have a mistake to fix."

They watched her as she walked back into town. Now that that she had been consoled, they could have sworn that they saw a little bounce in the Queen's high heels that clicked against the road pavement rhythmically. Bernt elbowed the pregnant Alexandra.

"You sure the baby's as good of a judge of character as you say?"

"Of course!"

"What about the time she kicked for your mother?"

"That was a month ago, the child didn't know anything back then!"

* * *

"Heeee!"

"Quiet, will you? If you keep squeaking like that, Elsa will hear you!"

"Sorry, sorry! It's just, I was so worried that Elsa will get hurt by others, that she would never want to leave the palace again." Anna's face scrunched up comically in fury. "But oh... That dastardly woman! I don't care that she's old, I'm going to feed her with her teeth the next time I see her..."

"That's... just a bit over the top, you know. And I'm pretty sure she can snap even _me _like a twig."

Anna made another mood swing, chipper once more. "She does remind one of old Oaken, doesn't she? HOO-hoo!" She imitated the finger-twiddling. "But now Elsa made some friends, everything is working out all right!" She spread her arms out to express her joy, and accidentally slapped poor Kristoff in the nose. "Oh, sorry, sorry! Is it bleeding?"

"Nah," Kristoff said, as he rubbed his nose. "I've suffered worse damage by squirrels..." Anna pouted at him. "I'm serious! Nasty, stupid, little twitchy things, hoarding all of the nuts; nothing that small is supposed to leave scars both physically and mentally..." He caught himself mid-ramble, and sighed. Anna grinned victoriously at him, happy to learn something new about him again.

"L-let's just get back on topic. I'm proud of Elsa too, you know that? Remember that it took me a week to greet anyone in a way that doesn't involve negotiations with ice? At least I had Sven by my side for all these years. And I _still_ offer to shake hands with Elsa sometimes!"

"She shook hands anyway."

"That's not the point! The thing is, I'm glad Elsa is coming along very quickly."

"...You really care for her that much?"

"Hey, give yourself some credit. She's _your _sister. If anything happens to her, I'm going to have to answer to _you_."

"And you love her ice sculptures."

"And her sculptures are _gorgeous._" Kristoff stopped before he began to shed a tear thinking about her ice palace, and cleared his throat. "Still, since you're my girlfriend and all, Elsa might as well be my sister."

Anna's voice became teasing, but slightly insecure. "I suppose it's nice to have a sibling that's human?"

"Yeah. But..." Kristoff kissed her on the forehead. "It's not as nice as someone who I can share my life with."

"Aw..." Anna could have snuggled herself against Kristoff's hard chest, but her eyes focused onto the bluish-white figure walking briskly downtown. "Wait, we're getting distracted. Elsa went that way!"

* * *

"Are you alright, Milady?" Arvid asked. Marketplace shoppers were giving curious glances at the Queen. She could still feel them, their attention, an invisible force, pressing against her skin.

_There is no reason to fear._

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Captain Arvid."

"Are you sure you want to go back inside?"

"Of course, Captain." Elsa's lips tugged at the corners. "I have a cake to finish."

The man blinked at her, as if she sprouted a new head. Then, his mustache quivered, and moved with his mouth to form a warm smile. "Of course, Your Majesty." He sidestepped to open the restaurant door for her.

When she stepped into the restaurant, everyone inside immediately silenced themselves. Even the children hushed the second time around." They were unsure, and their focus made her near-white hair stand on their ends.

_Don't run._

"At ease, everyone. Do not let me bother your appetites." She saw the corner where she tried to hide in during lunch. Ice had spread out from the spiky lump of ice that was once her drink. The cake was, of course, left untouched. Elsa had the sneaking suspicion the restaurant workers had little idea what to do with their new pocket winter wonderland.

"Queen Elsa." A woman appeared before Elsa. Unlike the other restaurant worker, she was very well-dressed. "I-I am the owner of this property." She bowed hastily. "I hope one of my staff did little to offend you. If you say he had, I will have him removed from my restaurant immediately."

A man with the familiar razor chin at the edge of Elsa's perspective stiffened.

Elsa smiled. "None at all. It is my fault that I damaged your establishment. I would like to take a seat there to make amends."

"W-well of course. Would you like any additional orders?"

"Of course, I'm starving!"

In many ways, it was as if she never left. She still felt nervous. She is still painfully aware of all the faces and eyes that watched her with unease and awe. And, while the farmer woman had already left, she knew there were still people present who disapprove of her.

Running away is understandable, but it's not a permanent solution. She cared too much for the state of the kingdom. She loved her family and people too much. She would have to fix her mistakes at some point.

She surveyed the frost, wondering how she could make it up to the waiter. Perhaps a miniature ice castle for the young man. With all the time she tried to make up for with Anna, she ironically had little time to herself. Now, she had some new architectural ideas that she always wanted to test...

With new drive, she dug into her coffee cake. The faint ringing of the town bells signaled the new hour.

_I can afford to stay in this town for longer..._

* * *

A clang of a chime, pure and silver in tone, rang throughout the shadowed woods, initially as quiet as a distant bird song. The sweet little sound slowly grew louder as it bounced off of tree trunks, through whispering leaves, and over aged rock, until it became a deep, roaring fortissimo at the edge of the forest. Grand Pabbie, holding the staff out in front of him, winced.

The last ward... It's been shattered.

A mist, nearly as thick as flood waters, rushed between the thick trees and out of the haunted forest. The Grey Fog of Ravendall, famous for having travelers lost and swallowing innocents, sowing chaos and confusion everywhere. It splashed against Pabbie, like a lone rock standing against the constant onslaught of a raging river.

Pabbie merely fanned away at it, annoyed. One, slight benefit of being inhuman meant that he saw the Fog for what it was: a simple attack. Pabbie's psyche was left untouched.

He placed all of his resolves and hopes within the next words he spoke. "Reveal yourself demon!" He slammed the end of the staff to the ground. Golden light splashed from the contact, spreading amber rings outward that illuminated the mist. "You, who have denied yourself rest, and have lashed out against all who have come across you, stealing their lives and locking them away in the darkness that was your soul, COME FORTH!"

At first, nothing seemed to have happened. Pabbie's eyes darted back and forth, his large ears twitching to listen for any abnormal sounds.

Then, the Fog of Ravendall stopped moving. It hung in the air like a still portrait, silent, sullen, and unnatural. Even the trees stopped with their rustling. The Troll King tightened his grip on his staff, gathering even more will and resolution within the fixed crystals.

He could hear the sound of something breathing.

* * *

**I... don't know how to bless a baby. I'm sorry if I botched it awfully. I'm not a religious guy, so I just wrote a little something based on shonen manga that I've read, and the occasional random little speeches Mom would give with the least amount of tact. Thank you for being who you are, you crazy woman.**

**I know "Bernt" seems like an odd name, but can you imagine it used to be "Kevin?" I had to change to it to the former because I learned "Kevin" only grew popular outside of Ireland much, much later...**

**This won't be the end of Elsa's angst, you can count on that.**

**Oh, by the way, am I handling the angst well enough? I don't want to have a situation where Elsa just kind of stops being... Elsa. Do you get the picture, or no? Why don't you post a review about your opinion? I will appreciate whatever you say, and try to follow. Just keep those reviews, favs, and follows coming.**

**Seriously, I am worried. If I take all of this too over-the-top, then everything Elsa goes through will just become unsympathetic wangsting. Eugh.**

**Sadly, I don't think another chapter will come until the weekend comes again. As I have mentioned before, I've got midterms to worry about.**

**"Sigh"**

**See you guys soon (hopefully), fans of _Frozen._**

**Additional Note**

**A certain someone is coming...**

**...to town. Heh.**

**Because of a freak snowstorm that caused an early dismissal in school, I've decided to work a little sick-fic that has been occupying my mind lately. I lost ****interest pretty early on though, but I will come back at a later date. Preferably when I'm not worried about a French Essay tomorrow.**


	5. Ch 5: I Won't Be Alone

**Feh. 8700+ words. And the worst part is, this was supposed to be half a chapter! I was supposed to showcase some smexy action scenes with not-so-smexy characters by now!**

**Ah well, c'est la vie. I'll get to that eventually.**

**Meanwhile, I would like to give a thanks to all 46 of my followers for liking my story enough to put it under their radar. I remembered when I first wrote a fanfic a couple of years ago, I was excited that it got 83 _views_. So please, I would like to show my appreciation from all of my heart by continuing to serve you guys. You guys have made writing a fun experience again with your support and reviews. **

**As well as ruining my appetite for many things, but that's another matter to take to therapy...**

**Meanwhile, have you seen "Let it Go" in multilanguage? It's "bleep"-ping beautiful. I swear, the parts where Elsa goes into Japanese, Mandarin, Serbian, and ****Québécois possess**** a direct line to my pleasure centers.**

**Actually, all of the languages have a direct line. Enjoy the ride!**

* * *

_**The Hour-After Note:**_

_**Guys, I sincerely apologize if the chapter formatting has caused confusion. If you want, just give me a shout and I'll put all the chapters back in chronological update order.**_

* * *

**_The Four-Hour-After Note:_**

**_Alright, guys, while I was watching the snowfall today (yeesh, Elsa) I thought up a solution. From now on, the most recent chapter will be the last chapter. When the new chapter comes in, the previous one will go into the planned formatting, and the newest one will take the last instead. This will go on until _Have Courage, Elsa_ is finished._**

**_Hopefully, that will improve much things._**

* * *

Chapter 5

I Won't Be Alone

* * *

"Queen Elsa!"

"Your Majesty! Please meet my husband!"

"Milady, you look beautiful this afternoon!"

Elsa raised her hand to acknowledge the civilians clamoring for her attention. She was feeling more and more overwhelmed. The news of Elsa having blessed a pregnant mother spread like wildfire, reaching from one end of Arendelle to the other. Hopefuls demanded that she meets them, that she say a few words.

Elsa initially complied with the civilians' requests, enjoying the fact that they don't seem to hate her anymore. She would greet herself to young children, smile and wave, spreading wisps of snow here and there, and create miniature models of random civilians. It was as if the entire kingdom had come to see her, to touch her, to feel her regal presence.

She wanted to feel appreciated by their desire for her... but she was losing both heart and spirit. Her words became clipped, her smile tortured her pale cheeks, and her ice became rush jobs. Upon the nineteenth person to ask her for a model made of frost, it took all of her discipline to prevent herself from just snapping at the girl. To make matters worse, she desperately wanted to shout and demand solitude.

_Maybe if she made an ice castle to hide in..._

_A Queen shouldn't be wanting to run away from her own people._

Ugly thoughts. Elsa grimaced. The crowd was really taking its toll on her. She needed a break.

"Captain Arvid," she yelled above the noisy men and women. "I-I need someplace to escape!"

The large uniformed man easily pushed his way through the swarm of people, until he was the one closest to the queen, and bowed. "Of course, Queen Elsa. May I suggest the bookstore?"

Elsa raised her eyebrows in curiosity. She was not even aware that there are shops that sold _only_ books.

Thirteen years of hiding will do that to you.

"Is it quiet?"

The man grinned through his mustache, and nodded.

"Captain, guide me there!"

The Guard saluted, clicking his leather heels together, and used his incredibly stocky arms to his advantage, splitting the horde and moving along like an expert swimmer. He created a large gap behind him that tapered to an end; Elsa could walk in it, without being swept aside by admiring people.

Despite her duty to connect with the public, Elsa was truly glad she had someone like Captain Arvid to separate them from her whenever she needed it. They reached a rustic, two-story building with ease, and the Captain opened the entrance door to usher her in. Elsa took a tentative look inside, and hugged Arvid out of appreciation. The Guard's eyebrows shot up into the brim of his hat, his expression priceless.

Dlsa hurried into the doorway, and heard it shut close behind her, as well as the barks of orders the Guard shouted to the disappointed masses.

Elsa gazed around the store in sheer awe. The smell of musty paper hung in the air, and the establishment was gently lit by curtained windows and hanging lamps, creating an ambient, deeply golden glow. There was hardly a sound besides the scratching noises of a pen. The disruptive scraping of a chair, caused by the shopkeeper rushing to bow, broke the silence, but only momentarily. Besides that, there was only one other person, and he paid no attention to her at all. There was no talking, no shouting, no clamoring, and no demands.

It was peaceful.

The shop was comfortably decorated with furnishings and rugs, almost like a library re-purposed into a home. Elsa's palace had its own private library, of course, but the writings were old, aged, practical, and dull. In the castle's library, the books packed with files on trade agreements and tax revenue would be severely juxtaposed by stories devoted to entertain children, a side-effect of the Closed Gates. Elsa herself had nothing else to do during that period. So, for thirteen long years, most of the texts at home have been already devoured.

Here, there were shelves that were neatly arranged and sorted, adorned with books of all sizes, vibrant colors, and thickness. However, the impressive factor for Elsa was that everything stacked on these wooden shelves was fresh content.

For the first time in forever, nobody called her queen. Elsa was now a child again. Not a little girl filled with regret and pain, but one who hopped with enthusiasm and curiosity for the world around her. Her icy heels made softened thuds over the carpets as she brushed her fingers along binding after binding of published works. She paced from one end of the building to the other, fretting for a split second over all of the choices presented to her, her mouth stretching into a giddy smile.

Elsa came to a conclusion; she should just start with one from every genre.

She walked over to a shelf, and closed her eyes with one hand, as a young child would, before reaching out towards it. Her fingers latched onto a paperback, and she pulled the novel out. Not even bothering to read the title, she flipped the book open and skimmed through.

Until now, she had never read a novel that was amazing as this one, for it was completely unique to her. She laughed at one punch line for its fresh unfamiliarity, then sobered immediately in the next page, feeling empathy for the revolutionary separating from his children. She flipped several more pages to stop on a passage, and read down the paragraphs. However, before she finished, she snapped the book closed, blushing furiously.

It was a romance novel, of course.

Her eyes darted left and right, even though there were only the two people inside who were not even within proximity of her, and she tucked the book underneath her arms for further reading.

_What are you, a little girl?_

She continued the same process at the next shelf, and the one after that, again and again, wondering why she couldn't have just spent her entire time here instead of a crowded restaurant.

Because _you will starve otherwise, and Anna will have a new reason to fuss over you_.

Elsa put the book she was reading down, her joy dampened. She was still annoyed with her sister for not coming with her to help.

_Anna, who has done nothing but forgive her sister for all of the years of pain she had dumped on her_.

She exhaled slowly to release her mental turmoil. With additional gusto, Elsa pulled more novels out of their shelves. All she needs is just more literature.

* * *

As Elsa skimmed over a new book, this one about the life in the far-off world of America, the lone patron walked by and stopped next to her, perhaps a little uncomfortably close. Elsa's heart jumped in response out of the invasion of privacy. Her eyes twitched, her shoulders slightly raised, she was very unnerved by him. She could smell him, not necessarily an awful odor, but it was quite powerful. Elsa snuck a peek at him, seeing a pair of glasses, and the color of grass. Elsa swallowed, and looked away.

He was doing the same thing. The man reached over to grab two books, one on each hand.

Now, Elsa wasn't exactly too sure what this man was up to. He made a big show of trying to decide which one to take with him, lifting one up to scrutinize it, before switching to the other, clearing his throat. If Elsa had knew any better, she would have suspected he was trying to grab her attention, and initiate a conversation. The fact that he seemed to have read the left book's summary four times over by then was not helping matters.

After two, uncomfortable minutes, the man was wearing down Elsa's welcome.

_Go away, please. You are too annoying._

Not that Elsa ever said that.

_That's because you are too much of a coward._

No, that's because it's common courtesy.

Elsa shook her head, irritated. She sorely wished that Anna had been here. Anna, her sister, who would gladly tell this stranger to shove off and be done with it.

_Anna, who left her at the gates for her to hang helplessly in this Royal Visit. Anna, who sacrificed so much for her weak sister even though Elsa deserved nothing. Anna, who had the terrible luck to have such an awful sibling who nearly killed her._

She heard a deep sigh, and shot another glance. The man, disappointment weighing his ashy brows, placed the books back onto the shelf.

Something snapped within the young woman. She was just so upset with herself, she just knew that the man had absolutely no justifiable reason to be angry at _her. That's his fault for trying!_

"What's your problem?" Elsa blurted, years of discipline flying straight through the curtained windows. "You were being too obvious, trying to get me to talk to a man like you!"

The man snapped back angrily. "Then why weren't you the one to at least tell me to go away!? The way you behaved, I would have thought you were mute!" They glared and fumed at each other. A part of Elsa's brain idly noticed that he was only a hair over Elsa's height, and he was nowhere near handsome. The only things remotely bright were his grass-green eyes. Everything else about him had either grayed or withered with age, such as his ragged coat, a beard that was simultaneously too long and too thin to have been tended to in ages, and his relatively frail figure.

This is getting nowhere.

The man sighed, and gave a stiff bow. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, especially to a young lady as beautiful as yourself."

Elsa flushed at this sudden comment, and raised her hands to her mouth, her dark eyebrows curled in horror. She just shouted at an elderly man, for crying out loud.

_Stupid, stupid Elsa. Those novels have gone completely into your head._

"I-I'm sorry too," Elsa stammered. "I didn't mean to shout at you like that. I-I'm not good at socializing, I'm afraid."

"Well, that makes two."

Elsa crossed her arms, perplexed. "So, why didn't you say anything?"

The man flatly noted, "Not a lot of people enter bookshops, believe it or not."

"How is that important?"

The man opened his mouth to say something, but he held himself back. The words seemed to have physically lodged itself in his throat. He averted his eyes, and muttered something unintelligible.

"Excuse me?"

"I-I..." He sighed. He just stood there, his old and gangling body remaining completely rigid and motionless.

Elsa raised an eyebrow suspiciously, wondering why she didn't just leave him then and there. He was pathetic. He was rather pitiful. He was awkward. He was fearful of contact and intimacy, even though he just expressed desire for both a couple of minutes ago.

Strip away the gender, the status, the age, and the stature, and he was what Elsa saw in her bedroom mirror every morning.

He caught onto her train of thought. "It's okay if you leave." He chuckled sadly. "I'm just going to stay here until this misery passes." He peeked out of the window, watching pedestrians walk by, doing their everyday business. "You should be lucky."

Elsa blinked.

"I'm not from this town, and yet I can tell who you are, just from that shiny dress and hair of yours." Elsa covered her braid instinctively. "Rumors spread widely. You are Queen Elsa. You have to go to meetings? Balls? Public gatherings?"

"Please…" the woman winced. "I'm no queen. It's just Elsa."

"You do not know just how lucky you are," the older man continued. He had his eyes focused to the left of Elsa, but never directly at her face. "You are given so many opportunities, well, forced to, honestly, in order talk to others." He jabbed a thumb at the window. "I saw you with all of those people earlier, you know."

Elsa's ears heard the faint echoes of the multitude of people that she left behind only recently.

"Didn't know what they were talking about. Didn't really care myself. But, I would have switched places with you in a heartbeat."

"Why?"

"Because..." He inhaled slowly. "I'm lousy. Never really talked to anyone outside my family, since I never had to." Elsa nodded. "I... I can't say more, especially to a stranger like you."

Elsa was genuinely curious about this man. She wanted to know more, to understand why he was so easy to empathize with. "Can you at least say your name?"

The man just pursed his lips, not looking directly at her.

He truly is a painfully shy person. Elsa knew that he won't talk. If she were him, she wouldn't have either, without a bargain. Perhaps... she had an idea.

Her stomach lurched a little when she made the proposal. "You tell me your side of the story, and... I-I'll tell you mine." She felt unusually exposed in this situation, despite the solace the bookstore had been providing her the whole time earlier. "Deal?"

The man's eyes widened in surprise at the offer. "I suppose I owe you a name: It's Frode.

"And deal," he agreed. "But only if you go first."

Elsa blinked twice, realizing she placed herself into an uncomfortable situation. Still, she complied, albeit timidly. "So... Um..."

_How do I start?_ She closed her eyes, and thought of two little girls.

_You don't have to do this, you know._

_It is what I deserve._

Remembering the past was painful for Elsa. It meant having to face the inner demons that haunted her for years on end, bringing with them fear of her powers, which occasionally broke free as sudden drops of temperature. Frode had to remind her at times that ice was starting to coat the books. As she relived thirteen years of sadness and second thoughts, she explained that each day plagued her with futility and despair, until she learned her love and desire to protect her sister was the solution to controlling the ice.

She told of how she was raised to become Queen at a young age, how she initially looked forward to become the leader of an entire country! Then, Elsa explained how she nearly killed her sister at the age of eight, and how she dreaded having to face her people ever since. Elsa recounted the events of the Eternal Winter, about how her fears eventually got the better of her, why she threw away her duties as Arendelle's ruler as a result.

It was only after she froze her sister's heart that she began the road to recovery.

"-All those years, all those chances that I could have taken to open the door for Anna... I squandered them. Even so, I'm still afraid of what everyone think will of me, still worried that they will reject me for my powers and mistakes. Even today, I've been nothing but a sad excuse for a queen."

Frode's curiosity sparked in his eyes. "Can you control your powers now?"

Elsa tilted her head at him, and decided a little show would be necessary. She needed a break from this weight in her heart, anyway.

As she lifted her arms, she noticed that they were quaking severely. Without Anna around, she didn't know if she could manage her powers easily within this building. She feared she would lose restraint, her ice destroying this little haven tucked away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

_Think of Anna_. Her mind flashed back to the dressing mirror earlier that day, of her sister hugging her from behind. Anna's soothing voice repeated itself in the platinum blonde's ears. She then thought of Kristoff, who would go into a weepy mess every time Elsa made an ice sculpture, then of Olaf's joyful grin, and then even Sven. They loved her, powers included. They always told her they wouldn't want anyone else as a family member for the world.

_That would have to do._

Elsa waved a hand dramatically, sending a chill wind, illuminated by magic snow, down the aisles. It twinkled in the candle lights, and brushed past rows of books on display, turning covers and pages audibly.

She sucked in a short breath, pulling her hand back rapidly, and looked at the receptionist's desk. The shopkeeper did not pay a single bit of attention.

Elsa looked back at Frode, and waved her other hand, creating a miniature cyclone of white powder. It snuffed out nearby candles, painting a section of the store white with its luminosity. Elsa wasn't finished yet; she twirled around, guiding the free-flying snow towards herself. Silently, it surrounded her, forming a silver ring that spun rapidly, until it appeared to be a solid white. The ring widened into a thick veil, forming a swirling column that connected the ceiling to the floor, blocking Elsa's sight from the world outside.

Finally, she raised her hands, calling the snow into the small space between them. It swirled from multiple directions, like streamers spinning around a pole, compacting into a single snowball. She released her powers, and let the snowball fall unceremoniously onto the ground, now a simple mess that melted into the carpet.

The wizened man sucked in a deep breath, staring at the pile of disappearing snow. "Amazing. After thirty years, I thought I'd seen it all…"

He noticed the young woman's patient eyes at him. "I-I suppose it is my turn, then."

He scratched his head, sifting through decades of memories. "I had to leave my family," he said, quietly. "My parents were simple cabbage farmers. I never explored anywhere. Never had to. Cabbage farming doesn't require a lot of travel, you know? I mean, sure, they were deliciously sweet, better than any other vegetable, especially in the cold North! But, still. A cabbage is still a cabbage.

"Books were my only escape. They were a door to another world, one that was not limited by fences and dirt.

"Of course, my father expressed little desire for me to have life outside the farm. 'It's better to be safe in your home, doing what you know best,' he would always say. You following me?" Elsa nodded at him. "After a... heated discussion with dad... I-I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my novels, some vegetables from the farmlands, and... I ran. I ran away without ever looking back. That was the last time I had ever seen my parents."

_I'm never going back, the past is in the past..._

"I was ready to go out, seek my own fortunes." He stood up from his chair, alarming Elsa. "Let me tell you, the first few days were amazing!" He was gesturing with his hands in front of him, his voice gaining speed and confidence, finally comfortable with company around. Elsa was beginning to think that he was absorbed into his own world for the moment. "I visited towns and kingdoms, saw beautiful sights and beautiful people! No longer did I have to toil in an oversized garden, no longer did I have to listen to my parents! I was guided by books filled with adventure, filled with life! They tell of great things that came unexpectedly, things that caught the heroes' by surprise, flipped their lives upside down, awakened their talents, turned their miserable pasts into a future full of fortune and fulfillment!"

He was swinging his arms wildly now, and jumped boldly on tables to make his point. "I have traveled far and wide, through all four corners of Norway! I saw everything, read about ever- Woah, woah!"

In a manner reminiscent of clumsy Anna, he fell with clatter to the carpeted floor, spilling books and chairs everywhere. Elsa, terrified, peeked over the debris to make sure he's alright.

A spindly arm poked out from the mess, index finger pointed skywards, full of energy. " And here I was," he shouted as he clumsily crawled out, like a draugr rising from the deep. "Ready to accept the opportunity to become the hero of my own story!"

Elsa covered her face to hide a smile, but quickly lost the need to. Frode's eyes shadowed with strife. "I never got that shot. Look at me, I was never impressive. I have no useful skills, no money, no apparent reason for people to want to meet me. I just know how to dig cabbages. I went on, from town to town, hoping for that one spark, like a rich man paying attention to me as I worked with talents that I 'clearly' possessed, or bumping into a lady who loved me for who I was, to give me money, a family, a meaning to my life..." He gestured towards himself with his thin hands. "It's been three years of bidding for a dream to come; it's been twenty-seven years afterward of giving up. I'm an older man now. I have no wife, no permanent job, no family, nothing." He snorted, and gave one of the books a derisive look. "I wasn't the hero of my story. I was a vagrant."

Elsa wondered about what he said earlier. "Why did you give up?"

Frode looked even more frail behind his spectacles, his bright eyes worn and dried now. "The shame caught onto me when I saw a young man, my age and similar in build at the time, chasing a noble, or banker, somebody rich, as if his life depended on it. He had the drive and courage to pursue success, and all I did was wait for it to come to me. It hit me that… that I was such an incredible fool!"

He slumped onto a chair. "I can no longer talk to others, because I can't think of anything besides how fruitless it will be. I became scared. 'It would've been better if I didn't talk to them,' I started to reason. 'After all, nobody wants to meet a wayward son of a cabbage farmer.'" His voice began to waver, and he wiped a thumb across his eyes. He was starting to lose control of himself. "I can't even go back to my true family anymore, because of my fear and naivety..."

Elsa remained seated, looking at him in a new light. This man had lived alone, choosing a path that he never shifted from, until the years of denial and regret had practically destroyed him.

Just like how the past she could have changed nearly destroyed her as well.

"I can only hope to surround myself in books to escape the painful reality. What once became a pastime to escape to another world became a prison that I'm too afraid to leave from.

"That's why I would have wanted to be you... With your powers and high status." He tried his best to smile, but it was a weak effort. "But I guess the grass is always greener on the other side."

They remained silent, not really sure what to say next.

Elsa thought of Alexandra and Bernt, the young couple who were the first to connect with her since Anna and Kristoff.

"Learn from your mistakes," Elsa whispered, almost unconsciously.

"Hm?"

"Oh, um… A kind mother told me earlier that if I didn't like how a solution turned out, I should fix it."

Frode showed his teeth humorlessly. "Even one that is thirty years old?"

"I suppose you aren't too old to change?"

The aged man gave her words some consideration. "...I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Elsa giggled. "Yes. I think that's a start. For the both of us."

Frode grinned, this time genuine. "It's nice knowing that I'm not the only one who has social issues. I was beginning to think that I was by myself, until I saw you."

Elsa voice softened. "Me too." She looked at a nearby clock. There was still time before she was required to return to the palace.

"Say…"

"Yeah?"

"You seem to know your books. Which of these novels do you think are the best?"

* * *

The two newfound companions were complete physical opposites to each other, and yet they paid no heed to such a minor detail, instead talking for an entire hour about books and adventures. Elsa discovered that, while he was a man without a permanent job, he did accrue many artistic skills over the years. He showed her detailed sketches of small rodents, pulled out beautiful woodcuts from his bag, and possessed an exotic collection of pressed flowers in a large book.

One of his talents, however, he kept hidden underneath a pile of books. As he was talking about dealing with squirrels (nasty, twitchy little things, he remarked), She saw a handwriting peeking out, along with an uncapped pen.

"What is that?"

"Oh, this! I-it's nothing, really. Just... something silly that I do all of the time."

"Let me see it!" Frode moved backwards, looking somewhat defensive, guiltily so. Elsa was losing his patience with this man once more. Still, she allowed herself room to partially joke. "As Queen of Arendelle, and a friend, I command you!"

He looked at her, sighed, and pulled out a few sheets of paper. They were covered with a script that could have only belonged to Frode. Elsa looked through the sheets. They were very much the same stories that Frode had been telling her. She suddenly understood the implications.

"You wanted to become a writer?"

"Well... yes. I always wished to be one, ever since I was a child. But... you know about my father."

Elsa reached over to lay a hand on his arm.

_But... this man isn't a family member._ She was slightly hesitant, and her fingers twitched more than Elsa would have liked. An image briefly flashed, showed a thin and frail-looking Frode, completely blue and frozen, his green eyes turned into icy white orbs, distracting her, encouraging her to pull away.

Bad thoughts. He needs assurance now. She pushed through, and touched him without any trouble. "There's no use in worrying about the past," she said, firmly as she could. "You could only look ahead now." She read another passage in the script she held. "It's beautiful."

Frode turned his head to her. "Thanks. For everything. You know, you were the first real friend I've had in years."

Elsa's lips widened into a warm smile. "I really appreciate that. Will you be leaving soon?"

"I don't know. I suppose when I have enough of this town, I'll go elsewhere." He grinned lopsidedly at her. "That's just the life that I've made for myself."

Elsa looked away, thinking quietly. She wasn't focused on anything, but she was lost in thought. An idea presented itself to her. "You read a lot of books?"

"Yes..."

"And you write stories about your exploration of Norway? Including here, this very kingdom?" Elsa suddenly felt very sneaky. _If Anna was here, she'd be so proud..._

"What are you up to..."

"Arendelle's in need of good writers." Her memory flashed back to the passages in the history books back home. "Norway has only recently come from Four Hundred Years of Darkness, where Danish literature had been all that have occupied these shelves. We have visitors from all over the world to come here, and it would please me to have a famous bestseller in this kingdom showcasing the pride of Norway," she explained, as she raised her head slightly. "Especially Arendelle in particular." She pointed a long finger at the Frode, who was now rather confused.

"However, the people here are far too busy to pay attention to anything outside of their concern, even if you decided to sew this writing," she shook the sheets in her hand gently, "into your clothes, and walk out in open daylight."

She tried best to appear haughty, looking down her nose at him. He needed to understand the message. "A drifter such as you cannot expect help to come unless he truly wish to chance his luck. Otherwise, he would have to find the right man, and shake him until he starts listening."

He stared at her, meeting eye-to-eye, betrayal marring his face.

"Normally, I would do my best to help you, but I see you are too shy and afraid to seek assistance yourself." Elsa turns around to leave. "Good-bye, Frode." She walked slowly and deliberately, making sure her high heels of ice clacked against the floor noisily. She only took a step with every slow beating of her heart.

Frode was clearly talented enough, he just needs to understand it himself. If he truly wanted to improve, he would get the hint before she could shut the door on him.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving so suddenly? I thought... I-I thought was finally able to get along with someone!"

She's already at the exit. She sighed quietly to herself. _Maybe I was too harsh on him…_

She was prepared to turn around. She wanted to apologize to Frode, hoping that he could excuse this sudden extreme treatment and remain friends again. But... something kept her moving forward. Frode, like Elsa, must understand that only he can change his own course, because she believed he can. Her hand was turning the doorknob-

"Wait!"

Elsa turned her head and eyes slightly, so she saw Frode at her peripheral. A sly grin nearly overtook her features.

"You lying, manipulative, _wonderful _girl." He bowed awkwardly. "As a mere vagrant, I ask you..." He gulped, "to tell me of a publishing company nearby."

Elsa finally beamed at him, pleased, and spoke in a regal manner. "I have no idea, for I have not reviewed over Arendelle's existing businesses as of yet."

"Oh…" His face crestfallen, his shoulders slinked, he was prepared to walk away, disappointed with his life once more.

"But as a friend, I do know that the owner of this store had to get his books from _somewhere_."

He glanced to the shopkeeper, who had remained silent the entire time. Never had he once looked up from his own notes.

"But, I don't want to trouble him."

"You've came to trouble me; look how that turned out. Besides," she added, "you are only doing this because it is necessary. When it isn't, you are free to find solace, like I had with this amazing place." She waved her arms around, taking in the grandeur of the bookstore once more.

Frode gave a subdued leap of joy, his graying beard moving along with him, and clasped onto both of Elsa's pale hands, his green eyes shining with more hope than she ever saw him. "Thank you!" As he expressed his gratitude, his face lost much of its forlorn qualities.

He kissed her hands, but recoiled a second after. "Ah! Cold, cold!" Elsa was slightly uneasy, but he pulled back and laughed. "People still terrify me, but I don't think I'll leave this town anytime soon, thanks to you!" He waggled his eyebrows. "I'll give you a sneak peek when I'm finished. First look!"

Elsa hugged him. She didn't smell anything that had bothered her before, only feeling the warmth that he emanated from his body. "That sounds lovely. I suppose I can hope to see you in this bookstore in another day?"

He patted her on the back. "Of course. I look forward to the next time you come! Please, come soon!" He turned around, elated, to face the shopkeeper. "Excuse me! Sorry for interrupting you, sir..."

Elsa closed the wooden door, not needing to see more. She nodded towards the ever-dutiful Captain Arvid, just barely preventing herself from letting loose her own squeal of excitement.

Anna would indeed be so proud of her, because...

_...I made a new friend by myself!_

* * *

The sun was setting low on the harbor by the time Elsa finally returned from her Royal Visit. There were much less people on the streets now, for they have returned home to eat dinner.

The Snow Queen herself took her time to enjoy the sun setting on her kingdom, its blazing colors splashing over the water and homes. The entire fjord was painted in radiant hues of orange, gold, pink, and red, a stark contrast to the lithe, blue-white figure observing it.

Elsa's stomach growled noisily, and her cheeks became much less white. She quickly darted her eyes around, and decided to stop by the bakery before she caved in to starvation.

Initially, she planned on buying a chocolate pastry, an absolute certainty for deliciousness, to celebrate the success (or at least survival) of her trip. But, as she looked at the wide selection of mouthwatering treats, with the tarts glistening with sugar, the sumptuous-looking cakes, and rows and rows of decorated truffles...

Who was she kidding! In high spirits, now that the long, fruitful day was over, Elsa decided that she might as well go full out. In a move that caused the baker's left eye to twitch with disbelief, she brought nearly all of the sweets in the desert section, planning to share with everyone back home. She even purchased some small carrot cakes for Kristoff and Sven to share, if reindeers could eat such things.

Arvid tried to deny Elsa any bags to carry, as he attempted to secure a grip onto every dessert item. Elsa had to insist gently that she should at least assist, lest Arvid should comically drop everything into a mess. He was reluctant to give her a small bag of chocolate chip croissants.

For the first time in a while, she found herself facing the opposite direction of the palace gates, a welcoming sign instead of a prison wall. Elsa smiled, for she was finally home.

The Queen and the Captain were surprised to see Elsa's entire family, Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven, waiting for her in the courtyard. Anna grinned at her older sister, but waved shyly.

"Um... Hey! So, how was your trip?"

"It was wonderful," Elsa laughed. She was being honest. She had her troubles, especially when so many people became too overbearing, but she had also gained some confidence within herself, and advice from a wide variety of good-hearted individuals.

Still though, she was constantly perplexed by a single detail the entire day, and decided to address it directly. Her dark eyebrows drew closer, and she scrutinized Anna. "Kristoff leaving for his own business, I can understand. But, I don't comprehend why you had to leave, too."

In no relation to Elsa's powers, everyone froze to their spots. Anna, bless her honest soul, started to go rigid, and clammed up. She's onto something, Elsa just knew it.

"Anna..."

The cornered redhead bit her bottom lip, and she looked at Kristoff desperately.

"What are you hiding from me?"

Kristoff muttered, waving his arms up, "That's it. I'm out of here. I like ice, but I do not want to spend the rest of the night wearing blocks for slippers."

Anna gaped at him in shock. "But you agreed first!"

"Alright, you got me there." He turned and breathed deeply, ready to explain. At Elsa's peripheral vision, she could see that Captain Arvid was stepping away, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"Quiet, Kristoff. I want Anna to explain these events..."

Kristoff blinked, unsure of whether or not he was out of the frying pan just yet, but he stayed put. "Yes, your royalty! No, I-I mean Your Highness! Wait! Queen Elsa? Just Elsa? Augh!" He slapped himself in the forehead.

_He truly is Anna's boyfriend_, Elsa thought, but she did not permit herself to laugh. Instead, she waved a hand behind her back, so a small flurry began spinning around the Queen and her captives, which increasingly thickened until it became a fully-fledged snowstorm. Anna and Kristoff looked around in alarm. Only Olaf and Sven was not concerned.

"Alright. Elsa, Elsa," Olaf said, holding his hands out in front of him. "I know you are upset to see Anna again- No, happy? I mean, you are always happy to see Anna, and yet I'm pretty sure you're mad because of what we did; this blizzard surely means something, I just can't put a finger on it-"

A burst of wind struck the little snowman, carrying Olaf's head upwards, and leaving it flying above its poor body.

"Hey Kristoff, I don't know if you can tell, but I'm pretty sure I'm taller than you right now!" Everyone else watched it jabber, nonplussed.

Elsa, without icicles of course, took a stab into the confusion. "I knew what you guys were up to while my back was turned." Both Kristoff and Anna, who huddled against Sven's fur for safety, looked first at each other, then at Elsa in astonishment.

Anna was the first to crack. "Elsa, I'm s-sorry for not telling you earlier, bu-"

"You two went off to elope didn't you!"

The blinding snow lost its wind power, and settled itself harmlessly on the ground. Everyone else just stood there, stunned. Anna and Kristoff sputtered, Olaf gasped, and Sven gave out an unusual, punctuated braying sound that could have been laughter.

Olaf's head fell onto the ground, but he didn't pay attention. He was latched onto something more interesting. "Anna, you didn't tell me you were actually going to marry today! I could have brought flowers!"

"N-no! I didn't!"

Elsa covered her mouth as she giggled, and Anna realized what had just occurred. The little sister began to fume, her face now matching her strawberry blonde hair, like an overgrown tomato. "Elsa! You... you-you..." She balled her hands into fists, and marched up to the queen, her chin jutting as outward as she could manage. She raised her hands, and beat them upon Elsa's chest repeatedly.

They had no strength behind, other than childlike anger, but Elsa's heart broke a little. "You big meanie! You scared me so badly, that's just awful of you!"

_Great job, you idiot. You took that joke too far, and now you've gone and made your sister mad at you._

A minute passed, punctuated by the sound of Anna's taps. Then, she hugged Elsa, silent. All was forgiven. Olaf's body went in for the hug as well. It reached out its stick of an arm inviting to accept more.

Kristoff, who was just standing there and watching the entire drama unfold, realized that the royal sisters were safe with, and from, each other again. He plucked the happy-go-lucky snowman's head out of the ground, replaced it on its rightful spot, and wrapped his long arms around the group as well.

"Still though, why did you guys leave me?" Elsa asked, mid-embrace.

Anna untangled herself from the bunch. "Oh, Elsa! I wanted to tell you so badly! but we couldn't, and we know that we should, but still, maybe it would've helped if we didn't? I didn't know myself, so-"

"We were asked by a troll." Kristoff explained laconically.

Elsa blinked. "Okay," she flicked her wrist, index finger outward at him. "That was a pretty lousy excuse."

"N-no, I'm serious! Remember when I told you I'm raised by them?"

"Well, yes, but it is pretty incredible to believe..." Elsa, unlike Anna, had not seen a troll since she was still eight years old.

Kristoff looked at the setting sun, which shined the last of its radiance at the clouds above as it dove into the sea. "It's almost night. Helge should be up soon; he can explain everything."

Elsa tilted her head at the young man. "Helge?"

* * *

Elsa stopped herself before the royal stables, watching Anna pat her horse Chestnut hello. She had passed this place by several times, often to greet Sven and give the occasional treat, but never had she actually stopped and entered.

Among other issues thirteen years of locking herself away did, she forgot how to ride a horse. She hardly had any memories of being on horseback anymore. The last time was...

Elsa saw a streak of Anna's hair change. Then, even more strips of hair followed suit, until Anna's fiery red hair became a cold, deathly white. The loss of color spread to her summer dress, and even Anna's skin bleached rapidly. Soon, all she saw was an ice statu-

Elsa closed her eyes. Memories. They're just memories. Anna is safe, and Elsa is happy. She has no reason to shun anyone away. She is perfectly fine... right?

_Sure._

Kristoff and Anna stood in front of Elsa, where Sven's stable was located. The two were hiding something behind them.

Elsa raised a dark eyebrow; no offense to the horses, but the smell was getting to her. "Well?"

Kristoff announced as he sidestepped, "Meet one of my many stepbrothers, Helge!"

It's a plain old moss-covered rock. Kristoff and Anna had been blocking the queen's sight of an small boulder. Elsa crossed her arms at them, and pulled her mouth to one side. She was not amused.

Anna sighed in exasperation. "Helge, wake up! Get up! I'm still annoyed at you!" She kicked it lightly with her foot, but stumbled and fell to the ground. Kristoff knelt down to comfort his girlfriend, who was beginning to speak indecipherable obscenities, while Elsa watched in shock as the rock stood up on stubby legs. It brushed hay off of itself, and bowed at her, it's moss cape and tunic swishing.

"It's you..." It had the features most trolls sported; short stature, a tangled mess of hair, bulbous nose, wide ears, and rocky skin.

"Your Majesty, I am humbled to be in your prese-"

"You were one the trolls who planted the idea to have me locked away for good!" Elsa suddenly screeched.

Perhaps because, at some point in the past thirteen years, Elsa was beginning to resent her life, even more than usual. It's a teenage thing. And, to be fair, it lasted only a few weeks or so. It's a wonder how Elsa eventually managed, or she would have set her palace into a miniature ice age years ago.

During that particular, special time, as well as upsetting the King and Queen, developing a distaste for obvious displays of freedom, and turning food cold too quickly, she began blaming trolls for her misfortune. That livid Elsa came forth from the Ice Queen, like an ugly monster rearing its head, and rising from within her internal darkness. She hated the little stone creature, angry at it for removing Anna's memories of magic, angry for telling her and her parents to control her powers.

She shot a blast of magic beneath it, and icicle spikes lifted the creature well above the ground. Anna and Kristoff yelped in horror, blabbering objections that did not quite reach the Queen's ears.

Elsa was expecting the troll to be afraid for its life. She was stunned instead when the troll nodded, and said to himself, "Good, good. Her spirit has improved."

Helge's eyes widened, and he focused onto her, his eyes genuinely repenting. "In advance of Grand Pabbie, the Troll King, as one of his protégés, I apologize for the tragedy we trolls had befallen upon you and the Royal Family for years."

Elsa continued to stare hard at him. The air was frigid, and the breaths of everyone inside the stables came out as thick steam. A few of the horses nearby whinnied nervously.

"Despite all of the help we have given, all of our advice, we are not perfect," Helge explained. "We're very well learned on love and happiness, hence the title of 'love experts.' We trolls are ill equipped for everything else in human nature, unfortunately. Grand Pabbie was the wisest, but he is not the perfect guide; none of us were good enough to assist your condition." He bowed his head with shame and self-disappointment. "We made the same mistake many nights before with Anna, when she was suffering a frozen heart. We cannot forgive ourselves for these egregious errors. We were just not human enough to consider the ramifications."

_Not human... enough?_

"Now please, place me down." An edge of panic began to creep into Helge's voice, and he wiggled his thick toes frantically. "I feel much, much better if my feet are at least touching the floor."

Elsa lowered her arms, evaporating the spikes, and covered her mouth in shock. In her rage, she had nearly hurt somebody again, when she promised herself that would never happen. The implications of her actions mollified her. "I-it's okay," she stuttered weakly. "It is all my fault, I-I thought I had my temper under control."

"Not at all," Helge said lightly, waving a hand at her. "I see no need for an apology; that is just another reason why you people are so gifted."

Elsa looked at Kristoff, who knew trolls best, having been raised by them and all. If there were any stories he told that the queen doubted, she doubted them no longer. The mountain man shrugged. "They're a pretty upbeat bunch, the way I figured it. Not the type to hold grudges and such."

* * *

As they entered the castle, Helge's turned to the Royal Sisters, his moss cape sweeping to a side. "Now that night has fallen, we must head to the library. I can also be able explain the day's happenings, as you wish. Be warned, you might not like the answer."

Olaf bounced up next to the troll. "Why are you named 'Helga?' Did your parents hate you or something? Or is it this some troll thing you have going on?"

"Of course I have a name. A name is one of the most important pieces of identity and honor that can be bestowed upon you, and gifted at birth no less! It's not for just trolls, it's for everyone who has a sense of self; you too, my friend! Without my name, I would be nothing."

Olaf turned his head backwards to face the young man walking behind him. "Um, Kristoff, I don't think Helga heard my question properly."

Elsa thought of Anna's note, right before she went to town. "Why did you prevent my sister from coming with me?"

"Excellent question. I will be very honest with you, my friends. Today," he spread his hands apologetically, "was an exercise. I had to keep Anna and Kristoff hidden from you to force your development and growth."

Anna opened her mouth to make a cutting remark, but Helge slashed the air his hand, showing he's not finished. "You have to understand, without a companion like Anna, you would have to come to your own conclusions and develop bonds to serve as a substitute. The Royal Visit has been conducted the way it is to strengthen your heart. Both Kristoff and the Princess are very well-developed in their spirits, Anna especially, so they will certainly be prepared for what is to come."

Everyone stumbled, made a double-take, and stared at the troll. "What is coming?"

"I will attend to that request shortly. Right now," he motioned Elsa forward, so she could stand in front of him. "Let me have a look at you, Your Majesty."

Elsa stiffened at the sudden demand, but she knelt down hesitantly in front of the troll. Helge gently placed a hand on her forehead, and another on her chest. She could feel his large, granite-like hands on her skin. They were rock-solid, and produced no body heat whatsoever.

"I am not as good at memory magic as Grand Pabbie is," Helge admitted. "But I can still see that you have done very well, for now." He relaxed, and allowed Elsa to stand back up. "I was beginning to fear that I have made the wrong decision, as have Grand Pabbie unintentionally done for the Royal Family."

He straightened his posture, as best as a little troll could. "Fear not, Queen Elsa. You are no longer required to be apart from your family. From now on, it is best to be with the ones you cherish the most."

Elsa felt several slight, warm weights behind her, and looked back to see Anna, Kristoff, and Olaf placing a hand on the queen. Each and every one of them expressed their faith and belief in her with their eyes. Wherever Elsa goes, however she ends up, they would always be there to follow and support her. Elsa gave them the most appreciating, loving, and happiest smile that she could muster. She loved them, and they knew it.

Helge nodded with approval. "That would be the library, I presume?" The troll pointed at a pair of doors at the end of a grand hallway.

"That would be correct," Elsa replied. She was not particularly looking forward to come inside, mostly because she's already had her fill of books back in that corner of town with Frode.

The troll hobbled in front of the doors, and hopped a little with his right arm reaching upward. It came down along with a sigh. He looked at everyone behind him pitifully. Simply put, he couldn't jump.

Olaf scampered over, giggling happily since he could help, and opened the door for Helge.

"Thank you, Olaf." Helge scuttled into the library, darting his head back and forth between the shelves, and the hundreds of books that have settled in them. "Are you aware of Arendelle's Royal Ancestry?"

Elsa's reply of "Yes" collided with Anna's cheerful "Nope!" simultaneously. Elsa sighed and rolled her eyes at her baby sister, who looked back sheepishly.

"Then I believe you know of Adam the Adventurer, of Ravendall?"

"You mean King Adam the First, of Arendelle?"

"Precisely."

The little troll walked to the most remote, dust-covered part of the library, spotted exactly what he wanted, and jabbed a finger in its direction.

Elsa frowned: she had not reached this section yet in her own bored readings.

Kristoff walked over to the troll's side, following his finger, and stepped up to a book shelf. He carefully pulled out what Helge wanted with one hand, and nearly dropped it in shock. Before it could fall to the floor with a thunderous "WHUMP!", Kristoff dove in to secure a grip, with both hands this time, banging his head lightly against the books shelf as a result. The strong man staggered at the book's absurd weight.

"Woah! Man, this thing might be as heavy as you, Helge!" Anna tittered at her clumsy boyfriend, who in turn replied with a goofy grin.

Elsa, on the other hand, held her breath. This book had a cover made of aged sheep skin, the runes on its binding dating back hundreds of years. Several scraps of papers jutted out of the tome's pages haphazardly. The book looked ready to fall apart at any moment. Miraculously, despite Kristoff's handling of the thing, it held itself with surprising integrity. This book...

It belonged to the late King Eirik of Arendelle. It was the book Eirik always brought with him to his daughters to tell bed-time stories, before the Closed Gates.

Elsa gazed at it with a sudden intensity and hunger, desperate to relive her happy childhood, before her powers could have ever hurt anyone, before she ever had walking nightmares that would sometimes keep her awake for several haunting nights, before she was afraid of the very ice that she created, before her parents...

Elsa's eyes watered, blurring her vision, and threatened to pour down her cheeks. She covered her lips with a tremulous hand, and choked back a sob. Anna and Kristoff watched Elsa with concern, and quickly stood in front of the young queen, so they were all Elsa could see.

A minute passed by before Elsa could regain her composure. "I... I-I'm sorry for being this e-emotional, everyone." She sniffled.

Anna's voice was soft and gentle. "Just let it go, Elsa. It's okay to cry. Holding it back never helped in all of these years." She gave her sister a much-needed hug, feeling Elsa shiver in her arms. "I miss them too," she breathed, "but we'll be here for you."

_Anna, you're such a strong, brave girl, stronger than I could ever be. Mother and Father would be so proud of you, they would have loved you so much..._

Over Anna's shoulder, Elsa saw the troll lifting the book with ease. He looked slightly distressed by what just happened, but Elsa dipped her head to him.

With his necklace of blue crystals and a singular yellow clinking together, he explained further. "Adam the Adventurer was famous for combating various monsters and mythical beings when he was alive."

"They were real? I thought those were make-believe stories Fath-" Elsa hesitated. She saw them. Three years ago, the two parents who loved her with all of their hearts smiled reassuringly to their terrified daughter, before they parted for a trip by boat. She closed her eyes for a long second, and reopened them.

The smiles had actually belonged to Anna and Kristoff.

"-they were stories that Father would tell us as children."

Helge's face twisted into a scowl, not necessarily at anyone. "You see me now, eh? You should be lucky trolls are fond of humans. There are many others, thousands even. Most hate the human folk." He tapped lightly on the heavy and aged book. "This had belonged to Adam, once. One of whom he was, ahem, _acquainted with_, is coming, and if we don't stop it soon, Arendelle would be destroyed down to its last child."

He looked around at the stunned faces, his own eyes widening with realization. "Oh no... Subtley. I was supposed to have 'broken the news gently,' no?"

* * *

**This chapter was actually pretty hard to produce. Not really because of its length (but that made self-editing quite the pain), but because of several other factors.**

**For one, I wanted to make the interaction between Frode and Elsa, two awkward people, believable. I'm pretty sure I failed horribly, but this chapter works well enough for me.**

**For another, this was actually of bit of self-therapy for me. If you can't guess what that means by now, it means I'm shy, aggressively so. I even became a Nietzsche Wannabe to justify my weakness. In my freshman and sophomore years, rumors spread that I was deaf.**

**...yeah.**

**Thirdly, I had to make sure this chapter didn't feel like it had a "people should just pick themselves up and work!" attitude. Because life's just not that simple. I freaking wish it did; it'd certainly make for less internet debates. **

**Besides, not everyone can be successful in a world that values extroverts. You're expected to be a leader, to be bold in the face of adversity, to talk and make connections, to crush others actively in competition with a thirst that can only be quenched by success. **

**And then there are the guys who'd rather relax at home and read when the day is done.**

**For now, I'm going by what my mom said, translated from Chinese: "It's important to know _when_ to go outside of your shell and comfort zone to make a difference in life."**

**Fellow introverts, hang in there.**

**...**

**Man, this is getting heavy. Here's a part from _Censored Frozen._**

******For the record, this is replacing [talk to].**

_**"Can I [bleep] you please, alone?"**_

_**"...no."**_

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen._**


	6. Ch 6: A Stone Heart

**Hello, fans of _Frozen._ As of yesterday, I have hit the 50-follower milestone. I would like to thank everyone who decided that they needed to see this story to the end, and I sincerely appreciate that fact from the bottom of my heart. Seriously, I love you guys. If you people were in person, I'd give you the tightest hug a kid with self-esteem issues and a habit for navel-gazing can manage.**

**Funnily enough, I have always, _always_ wanted to write a sci-fi action series, smexy fighting scenes included. I had the ideas for it, and the very first part for such a story is still floating somewhere on Fictionpress. I do not wish to speak of its name, because it was my first internet writing. Painfully so.**

**Thanks to _Frozen, _I will probably never realize that dream. W****riting for fantasy came much, much more easily to me, possibly because I have a crippling need for guidelines in a world. If I wanted to do science fiction, I would be compelled to try make it as realistic as possible, while still including large combat robots, which is just not fun (for reasons known physics, which I always founded tedious last year).**

**For fantasy? Just Google a little, learn a some**** background info, and throw everything you just learned away. A Fantasy is _your_ world, you can set your own rules however you want it!**

**As a fun fact, J.R.R. Tolkein was mostly inspired by Norse Mythology in his _Lord of the Rings _series. Goblins, trolls, elves, dwarves, you name it.**

**Alright, back on topic!**

**Remember when I said in the last chapter (which I decided to keep as second-to-last for now) that I was only able to write half of the planned chapter before expiring? This is the other half. Keep in mind,**** this is Grand Pabbie's chapter. I am aware he gets a little bit of internet hate from time to time, so just bear with me as I try to tell a story from his point of view. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 6

A Stone Heart

* * *

_You are really going to force Elsa and Anna to fight it in the Helheim?_

_The rules of the reality do not apply in the spirit. Where their magic and skills will be hardly able to touch it in Earth, that will not matter in Hel._

_It's influence will spread wider._

_As well as its capabilities. The demon's strength will also be less concentrated, understood?_

_...What about Arendelle?_

_...Its people must remain._

_What about Kristoff?_

_...He must remain._

_Pabbie... this is a severe gamble. Will Elsa be ready by then?_

_I can only hope, Helge. I can only hope._

* * *

For the first time since the sprouting of its first sapling, the forest was silent. Most animals had either wisely evacuated the premises, sensing something alien that was haunting their part of the woods now, or hid, a futile effort in the latter case. The stars have disappeared from the very sky itself, leaving an inky void above.

The Troll King found little need differentiate sound or motion to find his target tonight. He didn't have to determine between a mouse and a footstep, a deer and a man, or anything of the sort. Rather, he focused on trying to find something, anything that was an anomaly to the current, unnatural stillness of the forest.

The moon was at its highest position when Pabbie finally caught something in his eyes.

It hid behind the trees bordering Arendelle's mountains, a shadow enveloped in a deep, grey smog that spilled downwards, and washed against nearby rocks.

The Spøkelse of Ravendall took a slow step forward, its features and figure indecipherable from the dark miasma it produced. Besides a vague silhouette of something that walked upright, there appeared to be no arms, no eyes, mouth, or body. It moved as if it was underwater, ponderous and deliberate. Even more shadowy mist came forth, first desaturating the grass beneath it, then leaving behind trails of dark rust.

Pabbie tapped his staff into the ground, sending golden sparks that danced energetically on the soil around him. "You have come, monster."

_I am no monster_

The words were heavily modulated and full of inconsistencies, making it difficult for the shaman's ears to make simple conceptions. It was as if one had listened from one end of a hallway, and several thousand choir members from the other side decided to sing a familiar tune off-key, off-time, and off-volume, until the original melody was near-unintelligible.

"Then surely, you must have a name," the Troll King reasoned. "Otherwise, a monster you shall remain."

_you blabbering pebble _

_you have already delayed me long enough from seeking justice with your irritating walls and wards_

"'Justice' is far too heavy of a word to be used here," Pabbie chided. "You are merely pursuing a grudge with a man who is long dead, and at peace with himself."

_his loathsome legacy remains_

_here you stand defending it_

_your light have splintered and mangled my hands until they were stumps_

"I would have to commend you then," Pabbie said neutrally. "Not many creatures of Power are able to break them apart through sheer force alone. I expected them to last longer, even to one of your power and stature."

_enough with the niceties _

_I knew you were trying to lead me here_

As expected of the Spøkelse's intelligence; from the very beginning, the purpose of the wards was to prevent the demon from reaching Arendelle before clashing with Grand Pabbie first. The Troll King had only so much power to distribute, especially on Earth; the creature is guaranteed to break through and reach the kingdom, no matter how much energy Pabbie invested in one, two, or infinite wards. The ghost could have invaded from anywhere as a result, possibly before Grand Pabbie could intervene and buy enough time.

Instead, Pabbie had covered the landscape in a labyrinth of wards the last night, with specific weak links and points at certain locations, to force the Spøkelse to close the distance between it and Pabbie. In other words, he expected the demon to be baited into breaking the wards where they were at their weakest, instead of investing time and expense on a much more fortified section.

True, he had not intended the creature to reach him this early into the night, but he will have to make do.

The monster growled, smoke jetting out of where its torso shouldv'e been.

_step aside_

_my quarrel is not with you_

Pabbie tightened his grip on the crooked wood of his staff. "I know what you are after," his voice boomed, as crystalline as the mining harvest of the Valley, "and that is why you shall not pass." With one hand, he pointed at the monster. "Turn home, friend. For the first time in three centuries, be at peace."

_what does a troll cursed with a simple facsimile of what people call their_ humanity_ would want from such pathetic mistakes_

"What you call a 'simple facsimile' is how I was able to use my abilities against you," the troll rebuked. He softened his voice to one of admonishment. "And why must you call yourself a "mistake?" You are fortunate to have been blessed with the full gift yourself."

_shut up_

_this is my last warning_

"And this one is mine as well." Pabbie slammed the end of his staff to the ground. Wisps of golden light, shining brighter than the moon, sifted from the soil underneath, slithering around him like the lightest silk ribbons in a summer breeze. They were made of his magic, memories of joy and cherished moments he shared with trolls and humans alike.

With one hand, he pointed a shining quartz at the end of his stave to the figure. "Turn back, child. You have weakened yourself against my defenses, and I do not wish to see you in any more pain that you are suffering now."

In response, a hollow sound vibrated in the air, increasing in intensity. What Pabbie initially took as breaths were actually screams, long past any capabilities for vocals. Pabbie's large ears started twitching in irritation, and he covered them with his stone hands, as the Earth began to rumble beneath his bare feet. The trees behind the Spøkelse rustled wildly, shaking leaves down as thickly as snowfall.

The disturbances arrested immediately, and the Spøkelse roared, erupting rust-colored exhaust violently from its entire being, until its vague silhouette was no more. The Spøkelse, now a miniature typhoon of foul air, whirled around Pabbie in a twisted ring, the eye of the miniature hurricane. Lifting his staff's light up for a better view, Pabbie could see vague faces against the light from within the smoke, howling in fury until their voices were indistinguishable from a gale.

The Troll King turned and stepped in place, his beady eyes darting from side-to-side for an attack. He heard the straining of a bowstring, and spun in its direction, his moss cape swishing in the air.

A crossbow bolt, colored so dark it was more black than auburn, buried itself in Pabbie's staff. It hit with a quiet "thunk", and vibrated in place. There was something unpleasant about its shape. Or perhaps, what was inside it...

The shaman cautiously tapped the bolt with his finger, and felt a repulsive sensation grip his heart, as if a chunk of ice, slow to thaw, had settled in his chest. There were faint, unfamiliar images and voices pressing against his mind as well, but Pabbie's stone heart dulled much of their clarity and edge. Even so, the troll understood the source.

Memories.

Until then, Pabbie had been maintaining his poise as he dealt with the creature. He knew it was a truly pitiful thing to exist, one who actively refused to part the world in its death. It was furious at the world for the cruel hands of fate that had toyed with its life, and now seeks blind revenge while absorbing others in its hate.

Such spirit of the Spøkelse of Ravendall's type, if not caliber, needed consolidation.

But...

"These bolts..." He focused golden light, his distilled pride, around his hand to form a gauntlet. Pabbie grasped onto the projectile fully, crushing it in his hands. The weapon splintered into pieces, and caught yellow flames before burning away into nothingness. "They're are made of the memories and despair of your victims!"

Memory Magic had always been Grand Pabbie's forte for centuries; he spent scores of years perfecting the enchantments when he was still a wee little troll, until he was so capable of mental operations, with such deft skill and ease, he could bypass the incompatibility between trolls and the rest of the world's inhabitants. It did not matter if he had to work on a human, a golem, a Fae, or even a mountain; he trained until such little things like separate species did not matter. He was even able share memories and emotions just from mere skin contact.

Thanks to his specialty, the Troll King had assisted hundreds of people; trolls, monsters, and humans alike. Those who came to seek him in the Valley of the Living Rock earned his assistance without pay. He would heal battle-weary soldiers, victims cursed to see things that were not meant to be, lift trauma, and replace tragedy with love and happiness. He cannot calm the minds of everyone who asked for his aid, but he could at least alleviate some of their pain, make their internal struggles easier to overcome.

For Pabbie, the mind was sacred and fragile; it was The Troll King's job to maintain its sanctity, and clear out the nightmares and curses that could threaten it.

To see the Magic of Memories, an art he used for his entire long, long life, centuries upon centuries of use for healing and joy, _perverted _into a dark weapon for evil, repurposed to maim instead of love, to strike fear and despair to their targets until they lose all hope and sense of being... The Troll King's hand shook with silent fury, his mane bristling with this grave insult. The Spøkelse sickened him.

Pabbie was no longer in a mood to banter. With his words, he made a direct attack at the monster. "I know who you are. This is, after all, _your_ iron."

Even more bolts shot out from the fog. Grand Pabbie coated his entire staff in light, and twirled it like a baton. The arrows bounced away harmlessly, bursting into even more cinders that will show no trace of their existence. From the corner of his eye, he saw the darkly auburn glint of a blade from within the smog. Pabbie alternated on one stone foot, and darted to the side in a roll before an iron spear, elongated and cruel, pierced the space where the King had stood on.

_you know you cannot fight once the sun begins to rise_

Grand Pabbie contemptuously crushed the scorched spear in his hand with ease. "If that will be the time that I leave from this world, I would gladly fight on until I'm nothing but rubble."

_I cannot allow that_

From within the rust-colored vortex emerged a figure, clad in a simple plate armor that shone wickedly in the moonlight above. It was tall, taller than any human Pabbie had ever seen before, if he could call it that anymore. When it drew closer, Pabbie could see that there were _thin__gs_ inside the openings of its outfit, too obscured by a shroud of unpleasantly grey smoke. It breathed audibly, puffing out a dully grey mist from the visors of is helm. In the Spøkelse's gloved hand was another spear, a massive and dreadful thing whose blade curled at odd angles.

The creature spun the weapon once in his hand, and thrust at the troll, faster than the human eye could see, a slight "pop" accompanying the jab. Dust kicked upwards in a wave, by force of the impact from iron against stone flesh. The Spøkelse of Ravendall snarled, knowing his weapon had reached its mark. The dirt clouds finally settled, and...

There the Troll King stood, strong and defiant, his right hand gripping hard on his staff, and his left intercepting the spear's blade. Its vicious point had struck Pabbie right in the middle of his palm, piercing his stone skin, and the little being winced. Not out of pain from the injury, but from even more memories worming its way into his heart. It was only because of the natural incompatibility between humans and trolls that he could continue his mental processes.

The Spøkelse pushed the blade harder into the shaman, its armored fingers motioning to twist deeper.

_even something like you would not try to buy time unless_

_ah_

_you believe you have a plan that can defeat me_

Grand Pabbie creased his eyes, but said nothing.

_if you had them run_

_I will hunt them down_

_one by one_

_until no more can people scream_

_until no more can humans voice out their curses and despair_

_until no more can little children breathe to cry_

_Prince Adam's hard work is _mine _to exterminate_

_"_You've hurt him, you know," the Troll King said quietly, soft compassion weighing on his eyelids.

_shut up_

_he was one who commenced this hatred first_

Pabbie's voice grew harder. "Ah, you're acting more like the wounded child you-"

_I cannot believe I am wasting my time talking to you_

The shadowed figure twisted his waist, jerking his armored upper body hard to the right. Pabbie's heavy body was thrown off of his feet with ease, and he stopped himself from tumbling by prostrating on all fours. His staff tumbled a fair distance away, the crystals lights adorning it winking in and out of existence, until all of the glow was gone.

_you are not affected by my fog_

_I cannot hurt you_

The monster kicked the troll over, flipping Pabbie upside so he was facing the sky. He raised an armored hand, which dissolved back into a vague shadow that somehow stood out against the night sky. It exhumed even more thick smog than before.

_I am just going to have to read you_

The Spøkelse shadowed hand dove with terrible grace, streaming ash behind it in a neat arc, and plunged its way into Grand Pabbie's chest.

* * *

Pabbie was no longer in battle with an angry demon.

He was sleeping back in the Valley of the Living Rock, at the very center of his comfortable home. He was awoken by his fellow trolls and young grandchildren, all of them babbling something about the King.

The memory of Eirik's father was what snapped Pabbie awake instantaneously. He hurriedly snapped his cape on, and rolled towards the waiting Royal Family. Immediately, he could sense that something was wrong; an unnatural chill had hung in the air, especially around the King's two young daughters.

After he had done what he could for poor young Anna, he turned to her older sister, Elsa. The one who was born with Winter at her beck and call.

"Listen to me, Elsa, your power will only grow." He raised his arms to call forth lights, made of the memories he had removed from Anna, and his own understanding of human nature. Everyone present could see the silhouette of a beautiful woman, surrounded by an adoring audience; the projections looked at the lady in awe as she called forth a massive snowflake that floated gracefully in the air.

"There is beauty in your magic... But also great danger."

The snowflake became spiked and jagged, red light bursting outward like lightning in a thunderstorm. The troll shaman could see young Elsa's gasp fearfully in the scarlet flashes. The projection of the audience became twisted and red as well; they swarmed upon the young woman until she vanished.

"You must learn to control it. Fear will be your enemy." Pabbie grimaced. He knew all too well about human fear and witch hunts, although the care of Elsa's parents might suggest that attitude was losing its foothold. Young Elsa hugged closer to her father's chest for protection.

"No," King Eirik said, remaining as determined and resolute as Pabbie remembered him since he was a small, foolhardy child. "We'll protect her. I'm sure."

The Troll King watched the Royal Family with the rest of his companions, as they mounted onto their horses and rode off into the darkness of the forest and night. He could hear the trolls besides him discussing about this sudden visit, some more concerned than others. However...

Something was severely wrong. A tiny little figure stood alone, desolate and sad. Pabbie could hear tiny, weak sobs, and the girl quaked and shivered with sadness and fear. Frost spread out from her feet, covering the stone and moss floor in sharp needles of ice.

_Why on Earth would they leave Elsa here?_

The Troll King looked around in confusion, realizing the rest of his troll family had vanished. There was no one in Valley besides him, and the girl. The silence was only broken by the Little Elsa's crying.

Pabbie walked forwards slowly and cautiously, ignoring the icy needles beneath his feet. They are made of stone, after all. Elsa showed any signs of noticing him.

Grand Pabbie tugged on Elsa's hand, and immediately recoiled. A chip of ice had emerged from the contact, which bloomed into a thick coating of frost that spread its way up the shaman's arm. He tried scratching it off desperately, sending chilly petals sprinkling to the ground, but more and more ice encased his rock skin, creeping its way into his body.

Elsa turned, and both troll and human stared at each other, eyes wide in horror. Elsa's hair sprouted outwards, until they were a tangled platinum mess that fell down her back. Her face elongated and morphed into that of the Queen's features, albeit one that was agape in pure, feral terror. Her startlingly icy blue eyes were wet with bulbous tears. Elsa grew in size and height, moaning horribly in pain. She clutched at her chest, shaking herself violently from one side to the other. The fabric of the child's clothing was straining and stretching, trying in vain to fit the growing girl.

She writhed, and her garments split and tore apart at the seams. Elsa frantically clutched onto the rags in an attempt to cover herself, her eyes darting back and forth in anxious paranoia. She transformed into a naked, frail shadow of what she could have been; an absolutely stunning and gifted woman. She couldn't be considered one though; she was just too hurt and shattered for her beauty to show.

Grand Pabbie's body was completed trapped in ice now, a tomb to represent his failure to help the one who would have needed him the most. He watched Elsa helplessly as she gave a subdued yelp of terror at him, and scrambled out into the darkness beyond, her rags flapping in the wind.

Pabbie stood alone in his Valley now, alone, voiceless, and serving penance for his poor prediction and neglect.

* * *

The Troll King opened his eyes, and woke up back in his home, once more. He scratched his nose, idly noticing that there was no ice limiting his movement anymore. _  
_

"Grand Pabbie! Pabbie!" he heard his grandchildren cry. "Kristoff brought a girl home! Isn't that neat! I think he wants to ask you to bless their marriage!"

"Alright, alright," Pabbie groaned. "I'm up, I'm-"

Pabbie's wild hair stood on its ends. The air... it's been thirteen years...

Pabbie rushed as quickly as his age will let him, the Aurora Borealis shining above him as he rolled. He heard the distant singing of his family, no doubt to encourage Kristoff and the lucky woman to marry. Even so... there's strange magic going on in here. He must find out what was disturbing him.

Pabbie stopped himself on a steep hilltop to observe the cheerful chaos below. His family had truly pulled out all of the stops for this one, as they were doing full choreography, flowers, and wedding props. They even dressed Kristoff and his lady with two traditional troll wedding outfits, fitted for humans. Where they had produced the measurements and tailoring in such a short time, Pabbie was not too sure.

The trolls have placed the couple at the wedding altar in plain view, and Pabbie's heart plunged into despair. This woman, whose hair was partially red and white...

_It couldn't be. It just can't. Years of good judgement..._ If she truly was what Pabbie thought she was, then Pabbie would never forgive himself.

He rolled to the center of the valley, where his family had dug a trough for Kristoff and the woman to marry in. In front of the couple, Pabbie stopped on his feet, and his heart sank even lower; she was only five at the time, but he recognized her as Princess Anna, of Arendelle. She had become a beautiful lady, one who vibrated with life, and strained to keep a smile going with her eyes and rosy freckled cheeks, despite her weakened body. In any other situation, he would have remarked that she would make a good spouse for his Kristoff.

Once again, in spite of all the precautions, all of his experience, Anna had been cursed with ice magic. She was exhausted, and Pabbie could see the formation of a white snowflake in her blue irises, a stark contrast to what remained of her fiery red hair. He held Anna's shivering, ice-cold hands in his, forming an empathetic connection as was his usual diagnosis. He felt its chill pierce his own heart, in another body.

_No, no. No, please! This cannot be true!_

His worst fear has been realized. After thirteen year, despite what he believed to be the correct advice and recommendations, Elsa was not able to control her magic. For the first time since he became King, Pabbie's knowledge and experience had failed him. Right in front of him, an innocent young Princess freezing to a cruel death, was the grave price of his sins.

"Anna," he said, his chest heavy with both Anna's internal suffering, and his own. He just couldn't believe... and here she was. "Your life is in great danger. There is ice in your heart, put there by your sister." He almost crumbled into dry sobs as he continued, terribly regretful for what he has done. "If not removed, to solid ice will you freeze, forever."

His mind raced with every possible method for recovery, but he has only ever learned of only one, vague solution, one that likely was the _only_ cure.

"What...? No."

Kristoff, his beautiful, brave, adoptive human grandson, panicked. It never suited his usually cool and collected features. "So remove it, Grand Pabbie."

What the Troll King said next nearly destroyed him, made him curse himself for being such a weak, incapable, moronic old fool. Pabbie explained, "I can't. If it was her head, that would be easy. But only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart."

As the trolls, Anna, and Kristoff considered the logistics of True Love, Pabbie's head was filled with dark shame. He had failed the late King and Queen. He had failed Elsa, who was fearful enough to have lost control and done _this_ to her sister. He had failed Anna, who remained unsafe despite all of the trouble and isolation she had gone through. He might as well have cursed Anna's heart himself.

He saw Kristoff lifting Anna out of the makeshift wedding chapel. They have been talking about this Prince Hans, who Anna had been engaged to. Pabbie frowned in thought at the two. So Anna did not truly love Kristoff after all.

He watched Kristoff as he carried Anna out tenderly, and his mane suddenly stiffened in suspicion.

The man was Kristoff no longer, but a shadowy outline that continued to hold onto the Princess. There were no remarkable attributes or physical qualities about it, for Pabbie had never met this man.

As Anna slowly leaned in for a kiss, the shadow dropped her to the ground, as one would callously treat a piece of luggage, or perhaps cargo. She fell with an audible thud, shocked into silence. The shadow walked away for her has she screamed at it, confused and betrayed.

Pabbie tried to rush over to help the Princess, but he couldn't move. He looked down and saw that his body was encased in ice once more. He was lame and pathetic. The shaman could do nothing but watch as Anna huddled to herself and her cloak to maintain what little body heat she had left. But he could just leave her alone; how else can a King face himself after doing absolutely _nothing_ right for thirteen entire years?

"Princess Anna! Just... just stay with me. You are not alone, I will be here for you," Pabbie rambled, nearly driven to madness. "Please, Anna, hold on! Help will come soon..." She did not hear him. Every shiver, every mumble, every whimper for heat stabbed Pabbie's stone heart like a mining pickaxe.

A minute passed in a slow crawl, as Pabbie was tortured again and again with the sight of the broken girl.

Finally, she succumbed to the curse; her chest was the first to turn to ice, followed by the rest of her body.

"No! Please! I'll do anything! Somebody! Help her! Anyone!" But Pabbie knew that was useless. Everything that he had ever done was fruitless as of late. Anna was now a lying ice statue, pure and utter despair expressed in her beautiful, eternally frozen face.

_If I had never helped, if I had left them alone, none of this would have happened. Why did I even bother learning the art of Memories?_

The floor was suddenly veiled by a grey mist that drifted, almost as if it had a mind of its own. A haunting whisper fluttered by Pabbie's ears. It sounded almost... surprised.

_you placed your hopes in these desperate sad failures_

_your failures_

_you broke them_

The Spøkelse! This isn't anymore a memory than it is a nightmare!

Pabbie shut his eyes, and blocked out his surroundings until he could hear, see, or feel nothing anymore.

The shaman concentrated within himself, until he stood in an empty void, without any ice entombing him. Even mired in his internal darkness, Pabbie had several decades of meditation to manage his emotions, to understand them. This was not the first crushing regrets he suffered, and they certainly won't be the last.

_None of this is real. These may be my mistakes, but I can recover from them. It is not too late for me to help them. For their sake, I must escape. _

Pabbie's magic relied on recollections of the past and the feelings they carry, especially those of love and happiness. It is the emotion trolls feel the strongest, after all. He focused on his most joyful memories; the ceremony that made him leader of his people, decades of singing and caring for his family, and the first night he helped someone who was not a troll. A little girl, that person was, stumbling in the woods while crying for her mother. Pabbie was very young, only age thirty-two back then, and he was looking for some fungus that he heard from his peers could enhance his magical capabilities temporarily.

Because he was still in training, he was only able to review her memories as if they were still portraits, and very fuzzy ones at that. The incompatibility of the two hearts did not help at all, rendering such memories near-worthless. The two had to determine exactly which part of the woods she had described in her mind, which way she faced at the time, retracing the girl's steps, and going in wild circles until they reached the end of the forest, a human settlement within sight. The girl kissed Pabbie on the nose out of appreciation, and waved back at him in the distance as she ran home.

He never saw that little lady again, but from that day forth, he studied harder than he ever thought he would in twenty years of tutoring, determined to help any creature that came to him for help, incompatibility be damned.

Then, he recounted another human of whom he knows very well; his beautiful grandson, Kristoff, and his friend Sven. Bulda had brought them in after the Royal Family visited the Valley. The blond little boy was jumping with utter excitement when he realized the two best friends will have a new, loving family to replace the one that was lost, years ago. Then, Pabbie remembered the pride he felt for the boy when he learned Kristoff had taken his first job as an ice harvester. The Troll King truly revered the boy gifted to his family, and celebrated for an entire night when the Valley's residents learned their adoptive boy had been taken in by the Royal Sisters, finally accepted into a home where he truly belonged.

Now, the Spøkelse of Ravendall's influence was not so overwhelming anymore. Pabbie's memories, a bright, sparkling golden flame that licked at his insides warmly, spread out in a wash of ambient light that evaporated the ghost's smoke away into oblivion. Just as Grand Pabbie was empowered by positive emotions, the demon cannot help but abhor them with every fiber of its being, its attacks and illusions included. Pabbie knew he must fight on, and make up for his past miscalculations to the Royal Sisters, of whom he owes so much.

_I will not fail you this time._

* * *

Pabbie eyes snapped open, finally conscience. He was back at the borders of Arendelle once more, lying on dirt. Not too far away, the Spøkelse of Arendelle was panicking, waving its arm in pain as a golden flame burned it, chewing away armor as a fire would consume paper.

Coughing slightly and catching his breath, Grand Pabbie's alert mind instantly comprehended the reaction. Despite the armor, the weapons, and sheer power the spirit possessed, it clearly feared the emotions that drove Pabbie's magic. The monster hurriedly produced grey smoke that coated the yellow conflagration, drowning and snuffing it out with its despairing fog.

The Spøkelse noticed the Troll King coming to, and more smoke jettisoned out from its hands with gusto. It gathered around the troll shaman's body, and coalesced into hundreds of dark, iron spears, spanning from every direction. They blotted out the moonlight, forming their own pitch-black sky, complete with the glints of multiple blades that replaced the vanished stars.

_I hated Adam _

_but he was at least a challenge _

_let us see how his broken little spawn fare _

The Spøkelse flicked its wrist, and the many spears sank into the ground, forming a caged outline of the little troll. They interlocked messily with each other, quivering slightly from their impacts. Pabbie found himself unable to budge from his position.

_Escape, before he disappears... _Grand Pabbie's fingers brushed an iron auburn bar, and set it alight in yellow sparks. The fire spread quickly, charring more and more enchanted metal.

The armored spirit, taking the opportunity presented now that the Troll King was incapacitated, dissolved its form, once again becoming a grey sentient fog. It collected into a dark mass, roughly the size and shape of a small boulder, that settled gently onto the dirt. The spirit then rocketed from its position with an incredible shockwave, creating a deafening crack of sound that reverberated throughout the forest, kicking debris everywhere, bending back trees and branches, and striking Pabbie's makeshift prison, creating an incredible ringing din that mixed disagreeably with the sonic boom. Miasma streaked behind the Spøkelse as it soared over Arendelle's high mountains, a dull comet in the night sky.

Grand Pabbie watched the spirit as it made its course, and lowered his head in despair and disappointment.

Once again, the Troll King has failed. His knowledge proved useless. His limitations were too great. The night was still young. The Spøkelse was not sealed. It had won.

It would reach Arendelle within hours.

_No! There's still hope!_

Pabbie glanced at the staff lying on the ground. He almost never used the thing for years until today, but he crafted it with his own two hands, early into his leadership. The yellow crystals and aged wood that made up the staff were rare in quality, designed to amplify and control his magic abilities. It was what gave Pabbie a fighting chance against the Spøkelse in the first place.

The staff took the shaman nearly a decade of labor to finish and put to use.

After this sealing enchantment, he would have to spend another decade of work.

Grand Pabbie pulled himself free from the cage of spears. He ran and picked up the staff, its crystals relighted and shining bright. The troll shaman set his body and posture into a stance, and murmured in Ancient Norse. He flicked the staff in various geometric polygons and angles, then into glowing runes that remained etched into the air in front of him, before aiming the staff toward the grey comet in the dark sky.

Pabbie needed a link to the Spøkelse, to guarantee that this will work.

Without moving his staff away from the target, Pabbie swept a near-perfect circle into the dirt with his stubbed toes. He knew the Spøkelse's true identity, although it was never recorded by human memory. Grand Pabbie had to go through a lot of trouble just to hear it from a stubborn elf hermit. By speaking its name, he can direct this seal to the very heart of the darkness flying above.

This part needed no runes or incantations. All he only needed is the identification. Pabbie opened his mouth, and breathed.

_**"**_Hólmgeirr._**"**_

The Earth began to moan a deep, hallowed resonance. Golden light sprouted from the soil, the woods, the rocks, and from Pabbie himself. They snaked their way into the crystals of his staff, until the minerals shined with such brilliance and heat, The Troll King was nearly blinded by their intensity. He held tightly on the staff, which was now vibrating against his fingers from all of the energy stored within, threatening to escape his grasp.

The runes, an old poem commonly sung in the realm of Hel, spiraled and elongated, whispering their pronunciations as they whistled in the air, before collecting into the staff. A high-pitched trill, loud and sharp as a magnified birdsong, pierced the quiet of the night, and the miniature suns the shaman had restrained exploded spectacularly. Shards of yellow quartz flew in all directions, and the wood splintered into dust and shavings beneath Pabbie's hands.

As his arms lowered, what was left of his staff now useless trinkets, Pabbie watched as a dazzling lance of golden lightning, trailing sparks behind, and infused with his will to imprison, chase the smoking demon down, a harpoon for the great monster. Both vanished out of sight behind a mountain peak.

"I'm sorry, child," Grand Pabbie spoke sadly, exhausted. The stars, now uninhibited by dark magic, returned to dotting the night with their twinkling brightness. "From now on, you will have carry out your misguided efforts on foot." He looked up at the skies to determine the time, pinching a yellow crystal on his necklace. It was cut from a much larger piece, its sister located a few hundred miles away, in Arendelle's Royal Castle.

_The Spolkese is now locked in Helheim._

_My role in this plan is done._

_The Royal Family will have two days left, not three._

* * *

**Would you guys kindly review on this chapter, please? I'm serious this time. Not that I want to ruin anything, but this is essentially a preview into what you can expect of soon. Still plenty of fluff! You can guarantee that, but yeah, this is important.**

**I need to know every way possible to improve this thing, or else this will defeat my entire purpose for writing this story. So please, _please_ review, like, or fav. Doesn't matter if you don't have an account, I need some advice and encouragement.**

**Meanwhile, I'll be taking an eensy little rest. It'll only be a day long. My head is swimming with plans involving _Have Courage, Elsa_, and its starting to get exhausting. I've spent my entire free time doing little else but planning and typing. When I was lying in a bed made of snow last night, watching the stars... that was the first real break I had in a while, without thinking of anything else.**

**I could have stayed for longer, but my butt was suffering frostbite. And Venus was killing my eyes. Orion was pretty enough though. He will remain the only constellation I will ever recognize.**

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen._**


	7. Ch 7: The Past is in the Past

**10k+ words... A new record.**

**So anyway, sorry for the later update. I was too worried about my midterms to focus properly on _Have Courage, Elsa. _ ****That is why I will gift you readers with one-half of my intended chapter.**

**Yes. This heavy hitter was only one-half of what I wanted to do.**

**_Frozen-_related news: Has anyone been to the _Frozen_ sing-along? I can't go, but I really, really wanted to! If one of you fans came, tell me what was it like! I've been trying to look for a recording of an entire audience singing "For the First Time in Forever" horribly.  
**

**All rights go to Disney. Keep up the good work, you money-grubbing dream makers.**

**Oh, I nearly forgot to credit the lovely FrozenRose1 for volunteering to edit my work. I have no idea who she ****(turned out she is a girl) **is, but a person who offers one needed help for no return has to be a wonderful person.

**As of now, this is my first proof-read chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it!**

* * *

Chapter 7

The Past is in the Past

* * *

Anna and Olaf were not the types to be silent. They were the kind of people to continue bouncing off the walls with their boundless optimism, providing relief to the dour silence that permeated the castle walls at times. For years, in Anna's case.

Both of them remaining completely motionless at the same time was unthinkable. Yet here they were, speechless.

Of all people, Kristoff was the one to shatter the silence. "So, we have a bit of problem, right?" He struggled to maintain an upbeat tone. "Big looming threat that will destroy the kingdom in a few days? We've done it before, sounds like something we can handle!" Sadly, his voice was too dry to convey enthusiasm.

Worried for Arendelle, Elsa asked, "Who was this person targeting Adam?"

"Not a person. A Spøkelse. One who has consumed others of its kind for centuries."

Anna raised her hand meekly. "Um... Excuse me? What can it do, exactly?"

"Anna," Elsa said, her voice guarded. "Remember the story Father told us, years ago?"

"Which one? Cause I kinda forgot... I'm sorry, it was just so long ago. I could barely remember the past years nowadays."

"It was about when Adam left Ravendall forever, Anna." Elsa replied quietly.

"Really? Now that I look at it, wasn't it kind of like when you ran up to the North..." Anna's voice faded, seeing Elsa cringe. The air dropped a couple of degrees. "Oh no... I'm so, so sorry Elsa."

"I-it's okay."

Once again, the silence descended itself upon the group in the library, corporeal and suffocating.

"So what," Kristoff said, once more breaking the ice, "what would reading this book do to help us against this old ghost?"

Helge raised a disappointed eyebrow at his foster brother. "Kristoff, I thought we taught you better; learning more about an opposition will give us a better idea on how to manage it."

"Hey, I listened to Mom on how to travel through the mountains safely. I wanted to harvest ice, not become a schoolteacher..." Kristoff replied indignantly.

"Why waste your talents with solid water? You had the brains for it, and you were so eager to learn when we first adopted you. For some reason however, you continued to follow those ice harvesters. You could have been a shaman, even! You just needed the..." Helge began to bicker with Kristoff about the importance of the mountain man's education, almost nose-to-nose in their confrontation.

Someone cleared her throat loudly. They snapped their heads to see the Snow Queen, looking down on the table so she wouldn't have to focus on their eyes. She looked almost apologetic.

"E-Excuse me, may I just... take a look at this book?"

Helge widened his eyes, forgetting about his argument. "But of course. It belong to you now." He lifted the book above his head respectfully. "You are the Queen of Arendelle, after all."

_It was your parents. You are the queen._

Elsa held out her trembling hands, and felt her fingers wrap around the rough covering of the book. She nodded at Helge, who released the book from his hands. The tome dipped down like a stone, and her back strained as she prevented it from touching the carpet floor.

The extreme weight of the book did not surprise Elsa, at all. She was just a weak, timid little girl after all, desperately trying to imitate the ease and poise that her father always seemed to carry with him. She knew she could never handle the book like her parents did.

Another pair of hands swooped to catch the other side. Elsa tilted her head up, and saw Anna beaming at her. Her arms strained heavily with the weight, and she assumed a stance with hunched shoulders and widened legs, completely undignified in her poise. Nonetheless, she eased Elsa's burden.

"Anna..."

"Kristoff wasn't kidding," she said, trying to contain her laughter. "Is there a table nearby?"

"I don't think a mere table could support that monster..." Kristoff muttered, but he quickly slipped a desk between the sisters. Helge and Olaf scuttled to place some chairs for everyone.

With a cry of effort, Anna and Elsa released the book. There was only a few centimeters between the volume and wood, but the resultant sound was thunderous, rolling through the rows of shelves and empty halls.

Helge stood up from a plush chair. He drank in the book's aged grandeur, not at all bothered that it was a mess of paper within. "More than three hundred centuries of human history..." he said, in complete awe. The little troll gave everyone a look, and opened it gently.

Dust shot everywhere, unbidden and unrestrained. At least three years collection of dry powder sent everyone into coughing fits. Olaf grasped his nose and sneezed, launching his head to the other side of the royal library. "Oh my, give me a bit." The snowman fell to the ground with a muted thud, and rolled its way to the missing cranium.

"Just like old times, I suppose?" Elsa gagged. She blinked and looked at the open pages. She saw short notes littered everywhere, almost covering the actual manuscripts. One of the pages contained a looping handwriting, and Elsa heart came to a stop.

How long had it been, three years or more, since she had seen that particular way the letter "g" was curved? On documents, on letters to other countries, on little notes of love. She followed that letter, watching with fascination as it turned into a stanza of a poem, beautiful because of the person who wrote it.

She flicked her eyes to another page. These different, flowing curves, for a time, had accompanied her in lonely nights, when the pale moon reflected itself against mirrors made of ice. They were made by hands that tutored Elsa on how to tie her braid into a bun, hands that held Elsa aloft as a little girl, hands whose warmth no longer existed.

Elsa wanted more. She longed for the last evidence of her parents' existence. She wanted to take that book from Helge's hands, steal it away with her into her room, and lock herself for hours on end, reading these pages over and over again until she could almost see the King and Queen themselves, standing on solid ground and smiling. Maybe she could even talk to them, tell them just how much she misses them. For all she knows, this book may as well be the closest thing this world has to revisiting the dead and gone.

"Elsa."

The Snow Queen shuddered, and blinked rapidly at her concerned friends. She had been wrapping her arms around herself. A fine layer of snow rested on the table, except where Helge used his body to cover the book. Any moisture would have probably damaged the book beyond repair. Anna and Kristoff were shivering slightly in their summer clothing, exhaling mist. Frost had bloomed at her end of the table, starting from her shaking fists, forming crystals that shimmered in the moonlight.

_Focus._

There is no use in learning more about her parents. The fate of Elsa's kingdom was far more important than her pathetic, wishful pining. "E-excuse me, everyone. I'm sorry." The snow slowly withdrew back to her, before vanishing in thin air.

Helge snatched a piece of ice before it could disappear, crunching on it audibly as he flipped the pages, sending even more dust flying away that settled on the table.

His fingers came to a stop nearby the very beginning of the old tome. "We've reached Adam's diary." He tapped on a section that contained archaic scribbles. "Now, Grand Pabbie had managed to estimate when and where Adam the Adventurer first came across the Spøkelse of Ravendall." He lifted a sheet, and looked at both sides. "He focused the date down to around a few months, and these entries appear to be a weekly event..." He peeked into a section deeper in the book. "Beyond this, it's a complete mess."

Elsa saw Kristoff narrow his eyes at those words.

"Alright..." Helge frowned in concentration. "Here we are. This was his first time exploring the Lost Woods of Ravendall... Well, got lost in it, really. He only made it out because he met a Landvættir... nothing special there. Oh, on his second time, he made friends with a few ghosts! Imagine that..."

Anna and Elsa were young at the time, but developed enough cynicism that they hardly believed their Father was being serious about Adam's stories. Still, they remembered something Eirik mentioned one night when they were together, a remark that passed over their heads.

_Ghosts are born when people don't accept their deaths, or are really unaware. Ravendall was infamous for teeming with apparitions, because the Lost Woods just happened to provide a... sufficient atmosphere._

"Tried petting a reindeer, nearly got himself gorged..."

"Hey!" Kristoff snapped. "I would have you know that reindeers are perfectly nice-"

"And you indirectly kiss one regularly. We know." Anna covered her mouth to hide a smile at her boyfriend, as Kristoff's face flushed. Elsa herself never really thought of Kristoff's occasional habits in... _that_ particular way.

"Made a bet with a ghost one day to climb the highest tree as quickly as possible, only to end up stuck there..." Helge continued.

"How did he come down?" Anna chirped.

"He fell off when he accidentally offended an elf sitting at the highest branch. He had mistaken her for a very beautiful ghost, and was slapped into the nearby lake."

Anna giggled slightly at the thought of a man (looking a little like Kristoff) given a flying lesson. "Prince Adam wasn't exactly the type to think things through, was he?"

Elsa allowed herself to smirk. "Not unlike a certain sister..."

"Elsa!" Anna whined.

Helge pointed at a date. "Ah. I think this should be within a month of the incident. Just what we were looking for." The troll cleared his throat. Here we go..."

* * *

**Page 65**: The King, was being extra thick today. The whole time last night, he repeatedly told me, his overblown purple cape following behind him and trailing dirt all over the carpeting, "Do NOT reenter the Lost Woods! I am in no mood to have my little brother killed! This is my final warning!"

Normally, I would find that a perfectly reasonable, if albeit ignorant command.

_"How old is Prince Adam at the time, exactly?" Anna asked._

_"Seventeen," Helge replied._

_"What!? Younger than me at the time? That's totally not fair..."_

_"Anna, you know better than to interrupt." Elsa broke in._

_Helge rolled his eyes and continued with the entry._

I was beginning to regret telling him that the trade routes running through Ravendall's forests were coming up with more and more disappearances. I've been working my best to protect my people as Prince, but... there's only so much one man can do. I'm getting tired. I nearly lost a man to pack of wolves yesterday. That's why I told Trigve in the first place, to send the message that forest shortcuts are no longer safe.

I didn't even mention about the decreasing ghost population, or else he would just toss my news aside as his typical brother's "attention-seeking."

Trigve would never know about the condition of Ravendall's land himself; he's always too busy in his room, doing whatever kings are supposed to do these days. Every time I see him, he is buried in forms after pacts after treaties for hours on end. He really needs to find himself a wife fast, before he implodes from starvation, or crushes himself in paperwork.

I was on my way to the weekend business with Guðmundr. Boy, I really wish he left his home at times; the path I walked on was intended for dwarves, and it showed. The sun was being extra cheerful today, shining so brightly it penetrated the usual cool shades of the forest, replacing every color under the trees with an emerald monochrome. I sweated through my armor and heavy as I squeezed myself into tight and low places. I severely wished I could bring Applelsin here; he should be the one doing all the waking. Dwarves. They never bother to clear away tree branches higher than my belt level. I can't ride on horseback, and I'm carrying venison over my shoulder, for crying out loud.

So, as I hauled the fresh reindeer-

_"Kristoff, would you please stop? I'm trying to read here."_

_"He'll never touch Sven. I'll be here to make sure he won't," Kristoff promised to himself._

_"Adam's dead though," Anna pointed out._

_"Enough, you two. Helge, please proceed."_

-As I hauled fresh rein... _venison_, the heat and the thick branches threatening to smother me to death, I examined the trees on my right for a relatively small oak, one with a weak, gimpy lowermost branch. I scratched my name and an arrow in it months ago, to prevent me from forgetting the direction of Guðmundr's place. I don't really need such markings nowadays, but I've had some close calls where I nearly got lost recently; one can lose his footing if not always on guard in these woods, and I'm not interested in turning into something as depressing as a ghost. Gloomy things.

I followed the tangent formed by the arrow on the trunk. It did not actually point to an real pathway, because Guðmundr wasn't the kind of person to like being found.

Finally, I found myself in an open space completely free of trees. It was like a grass-filled crater, formed as if an entire, perfectly circular patch of forest was scooped out with a utensil. It's a relatively small pocket, but the temperature was always comfortable, the grass is softer than the finest feather-downs, and the wind creates the most soothing of melodies as they pass through the canopy of trees.

A lonely ash tree, paradoxically the size of a man, and older than the entire forest, stood at the very center of this opening, with a round patch of dark earth resting besides it. I sat in front of the ash, and dropped the meat to the ground.

"Hey, Treeshield, you up yet?"

_"Treeshield?" Kristoff asked sceptically._

_"Oh right, It is a rather strange word." Elsa answered. "...Father said it was a nickname."_

_"Hey Elsa? Loving the ice, but be careful." Anna said gently._

At first , there was no response. I looked left and right, and gently rapped once on the trunk. I kept my eyes peeled for anything around me. The guardian doesn't mind that sort of thing himself, the knocking, but I have enough of well-meaning faeries trying to protect their warden. Stupid little buggers with their pine pins.

Still no response from the old geezer. I sighed, and went to work. I dug a pit out of the patch of open earth, leaving the black soil aside in a pile. I stood up hacked off a limb from the ash with my sword, and looked at the stump remaining behind. I whistled low; it never failed to impress me whenever I see a bud sprout out instantly; this ash was the resting place for a Landvættir. The cut arm should be back in full size before my next visit.

Something tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around, partially drawing out my sword. I stumbled backward, trying to get a good footing so I can attack properly. My back hit the ash, and I was faced with the forest guardian himself.

He had the face only his mother could love, if he ever had one-

_"Do they have mothers?" Anna piped up._

_"Anna." Elsa said, exasperated._

_"Maybe they only have dads! I wonder how is that supposed to work..." Olaf's voice trailed off, and he scratched his head, puzzled._

_"Frankly, I've never met one myself. You should go find out." Helge lightly suggested._

-It was as twisted an gnarled as a piece of old driftwood, full of wrinkles and swirls that turned towards odd directions infinitely. They wrapped around his facial features and nose, twisting their way down his neck, and the rest of his hobbled body. Parts of his skin was covered in lichen, imitating liver spots. A wisp of dried, brown, hair-like substance hung from his chipped chin like a goatee, but in reality was just piece of moss. He had nothing else on him, not even a toupee made of grass. Instead, he possessed a dome, but he didn't have a smooth and shiny human pate. The thing was as gnarled and jagged as the rest of his body. His arms and shoulders looked no better than his face, and small stumps of what could have been branches stuck out like sore thumbs.

Overall, he didn't look like someone you'd hug, for fear of getting splinters.

I hugged him anyway.

_The snowman came over to Elsa's side, his stick arms spread wide. "You are magical yourself, being a Snow Queen and everything, but at least I think you are huggable."_

_Elsa couldn't help but smile at his cheerful sincerity._

"Why do you always have to vandalize my home, Adam?"

"Quiet. You enjoy the smell of charcoal anyways, boss." I split the branch into smaller pieces with my knife, and arranged them into a tidy pile on the circular pit of dirt. I took out my flint, and turned towards him. "A little help?"

The Landvættir huffed a little. "What happened to you months ago when I first met you, crawling desperately on your belly? You were so courteous. Humans, these days..." Still, he snapped his fingers.

I struck the flint once, sending a couple of sparks onto the woodpile. It burst into flames instantaneously, as wild and as intense as a compact forest fire.

_"Fires don't work like that, right? Kristoff?" Anna asked, looking up to him._

_"Not with fresh wood like that. Must've been magic." Kristoff replied evenly._

As I waited for the wood to be converted into charcoal, I skinned the reinde- "sigh" _venison_, and separated the desired meat from its innards. I buried the organs beneath the ground, nearby the ash tree, and stuck a large chunk on a spit. I sprinkled a bit of seasoning that was stored in a pouch just for these occasions. The smell of the venison, combined with the herbs and wood of the ash... absolutely amazing.

The Landvættir sat at the base of his tree, watching the fire with patient eyes. To an outsider with no knowledge of his resting spot, he would have appeared as a particularly overgrown root, a tumor attached to the ash.

I poked the meat, and took it from the stand. I inhaled, taking in the rich aroma, before biting down on the roasted venison.

I swear to you, this flavor only improves with every bite. The juices and the fat melted on my tongue, sending waves of pleasure down to my stomach. Hearty flavors settled into my stomach, and I haven't even swallowed yet. Every visit to ol' Guðmundr always began like this for the last half a year. For a moment, I stopped thinking about how tedious he could be at time.

I gestured to the Landvættir with the meat. "You want 'un, Treeshield?"

The guardian, his voice always as dry as the rest of his wrinkly body, responded, "You know I have no use for those things."

"Alright," I said in mock surrender. "Suit yourself." I finished the rest of the reindeer.

_"You said it."_

Satisfied, I laid on my back, and watched the leaves rustle in the summer breeze. I drew a flagon from my pack, and poured myself a cup. I downed the thing in one go, feeling a sweet, burning sensation wash down my tongue and settle in my stomach, delicious and strong. My throat tingled pleasantly, as I walked over to pour a little on the ash bark itself.

The Landvættir's eyes twinkled a little. "Mead, this time?"

_Wait, what? He's seventeen, and he could drink something like that!?" Anna blurted out. "If he can, why can't I?"_

_"Anna," Elsa retorted, "you know why I cannot have you nearby anything stronger than the chocolate fondue."_

_"But Elsa..." Anna whined._

_And I'm suspecting even fondue is too much for you," Elsa said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips._

_"What!?" Anna shouted, horrified._

_"Complain again, and I will tell your boyfriend here about the last time you were tipsy."_

_Kristoff raised a hand. "Hang on, I'm interested..."_

_"Kristoff!" Anna exclaimed._

_Helge looked up from the book once more. "Can we get back to the story?" he interrupted._

"Yep. Nicked from my brother's storage." I swigged a little more from the bottle, watching the trees dance in the summer breeze with appreciation. "I look forward to fall season a few weeks from now. When the leaves change color."

Guðmundr pursed his lips. "Maybe I'll have you paint the leaves when the time comes, Adam."

"That... actually sounds pretty nice." I sat up. "So, what's today's work, Guðmundr?"

The spirit crinkled his eyes, the closest expression he ever had to a smile. "A land Draugr decided to settle in the lower West Banks. Care to clear it out for me?"

I groaned, full of the meat, the mead, and his demands. "I swear, Treeshield." I pointed an accusing finger at him. "You know what, I think you are just trying to kill me sometimes." I buried the cinders in the fire pit with the dirt, so the burnt wood was one with Guðmundr again. The Landvættir sighed with appreciation.

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you..." I grumbled.

* * *

**Page 66**: Too exhausted to write: guy was a Draugr for a reason. I smell. Tired of the King's inanity. I'm going to sleep."

_"For an "Adventurer," he sure does complain a lot," Anna remarked._

_"So what, he's technically that forest guardian's errand boy?" Kristoff asked._

_"Not necessarily an "errand boy", Kristoff, but the description is apt enough. Apparently, that was how he managed to survive in the woods for so long. Protection for services. It just so happened that Adam the Adventurer made a powerful ally." Helge explained._

_Kristoff nodded. "Let's move on, I wanna hear more."_

_"Good to know someone appreciates history." Helge responded._

* * *

**Page 67**: I met a boy today.

_Kristoff raised a finger, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Wait for it..."_

No, that didn't sound too special at first thought for me, either. Children are rare in the forest, thankfully, but I would meet the occasional one. They were always happy to see others, blissfully unaware about their own demise.

_"I knew it. From mundane to creepy in four sentences." Kristoff said accusingly._

_"Kristoff!" Anna giggled._

At times, they can be mistaken for dancing elves, even in solitude. They were... I can't say happy, that would be absolutely monstrous of me. But, they were easier to approach and inform than their... adult counterparts. They can move on to the Great Beyond incredibly easily, their hearts not yet weighed by years of regret and anger.

Which is why I was alarmed to find this boy, alive.

I first found him swimming out of a riverbank, deep in the dark shade of the forest, shaking his head and wiping water from of his eyes.

I've never seen anyone like him; he must have been sick at some point, as his wet hair, plastered to his skin, was grayed severely. I took him for an older man, until he swam to the other side of the river, showing a backside that had no pockmarks, and no wrinkles. He was very short, and possessed only the clothes on his back, if they could even be considered clothes anymore. His outfit consisted of rags that was more clumsy patchwork than fabric.

I heard him yell in frustration. The child's voice cracked in three different parts as he said something unintelligible.

Why would a boy be in Ravendall, all alone, and outside of the human safe routes?

Even still, how did a boy end up this deep into the Lost Woods, alive and breathing?

I would have approached him out of concern, even if it wasn't Guðmundr who first alerted me to the boy's presence. As he was putting on his tunic, I called him out from the other side of the river.

"Excuse me, boy," I said. "This a very dangerous place! Don't you have a family to go back to?"

The boy took one look at me, his pale eyes stunned, and scrambled to flee.

I looked down at myself, seeing my sword in my hand. I had been using it to clear paths and obstructive branches. _Blasted fool,_ I thought. The child must have thought I was going to kill him.

"Wait, I'm just trying to help you, come back!"

Not even bothering to sheathe my sword, I dove into the water. In spite of all of the heavier equipment on me, I managed to swim across with remarkable speed. My leather padding sopping wet, I chased after the child.

The boy left tracks in his path that were easy to identify; footprints, broken twigs, disturbed bushes, the works. Within seconds, I saw a streak of storm-grey hair that bounced in its own wind. The child turned around, seeing me in hot pursuit, and inexplicably pumped his legs even faster. He sped by a battered oak tree covered in a multitude of deep gouges, lifting leaves off their resting spots with his drift.

My blood ran cold at the very sight of the scarred tree.

"Wait!" I screamed desperately, "don't go anywhere further! Just..."

It was too late. An ear-splitting noise, deep and powerful as the thunder in the skies, shook the ground beneath me. I doubled my speed, cursing the entire situation. The boy had gone and attracted the attention of a bear.

It was a monstrous thing; its shadowed pelt covered thick rolls of pure muscle and fat, and it's teeth gleamed in the sunlight, yellowed and surgically pointed for death. Its ears were tucked low, its claws were unsheathed, and the bear stared down at the source of his anger, dead in the eye. It knew it was king of this territory, the top of the food chain, and he wasn't letting some scrappy kid, paralyzed by the power it emitted, challenge its authority. It leaned its thick limbs backwards for a pounce.

It was going to kill the child.

"What have you done, boy?" I shouted, as I brandished my sword. I swung at its side, and the bear grunted in surprise, now aware of a new challenger.

It was more nimble than I expected it to be. I thought I had struck a hit, but the only thing my sword had split was empty air. The bear hopped sideways to avoid the blow, and roared at me as well. Spittle flew rabidly from his mouth, scattering everywhere in front of him, and I could smell the awful stench of the bear's halitosis. Covered in bear saliva, I grabbed the scared child and shook him, seething. "I wasn't going to hurt you, unlike fuzzyhead over here."

"I just panicked!" The boy squealed, his face completely colorless. "I thought you were going to kill me!"

Kill you?

Ah. The sword.

The ground shook as hundreds of kilograms stomped over and over again, knocking over undergrowth and kicking up leaves that parted like a spray of water.

"Bear!"

Less questions, more bear-fighting. I threw his small body as far away from me as possible, and leaped back. A brown shade of lightning zoomed by, its tailwind threatening to knock me off my feet. In that moment, I was close enough to feel its coarse fur lightly caress my nose, its musk threatening to overwhelm me with its concentration.

Trying not to imagine what would happen had I been a millimeter closer, I screamed and charged while its back was against me. I tried analyzing the situation, hoping it would lead to an answer that would not leave me or the child in ragged pieces.

Bears, contrary to most pub stories, are actually rational beasts. Sure, they don't seem to have any laws governing them, and Mother Nature gave bears one too many gifts for them to be easily enforced. Big build, sharp teeth, powerful muscles, sharp teeth, daggers for claws, thick hide, sharp teeth, and sharp teeth. If they want to eat, they will eat. If they want to kill, they will kill.

At least a year under Guðmundr taught me differently; Bears are easy to terrify. I've learned to run off bears several times by just waving my cape. I've even seen one run away at the sight of an indifferent forest cat.

It was the middle of the summer time, with plenty of food available, and this bear looked too well off to be anywhere close to starving. If it was merely startled by the boy, I will just have to scare the beast back into running away. Easier said than done, but it's a neater option than trying to kill the thing. I won't be able to protect the child, and I can't guarantee that I will make it out alive, either.

The bear opened its mouth to reveal wide jaws, great vices that would easily crush both me and the boy's head together in a grip. It would be like pressing apples together in a mill.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

The bear moved one of its powerful arms in a blur, and struck me. My sword slipped from my fingers, and I flew sideways, unable to know when my feet will touch the ground again. My back and head slammed into a tree, and I nearly blacked out. My cranium rang like a bell, my wits completely dulled and disoriented. In hindsight, the head injury must have saved me from the agony my back was certainly experiencing.

Check for wounds.

The first thing I did upon mental revival was feel for my chest. I poked into the cut leather with trembling fingers, terrified of any other damages the bear could have done.

My finger touched several links of chains underneath my tunic. Small sections had been torn loose and bent. I concluded that the bear's claws had snagged onto my chainmail. So, instead of being filleted like a prepared fish, I just took a surprise flight trip several meters away. I leaned my head on the forest floor with a deep sigh, relieved that I was mostly unhurt.

Then the ground quaked, as more than half a ton of angry bear stormed toward me.

Of course it had to go after me, at this moment. Stupid, stupid Adam.

It displayed its powerful jaws once more, ready to kill me for daring to confront it. As it sped forward, I gave a world-weary sigh, unable to tell myself to run away. Why bother, when it will easily catch up and shred me to bits? Its hideous mug was only a few centimeters away...

I heard yelling, sharp and cacophonic, from a distance. The bear focused its beady black eyes elsewhere, and I followed suit. There the grey-haired boy was, waving a fallen tree branch, with fresh green leaves still attached, as if it was a flag. He was shouting his voice hoarse without a care in the world.

I thought he had lost his mind. The entire point for me intervening with this creature was because I did not want a dying child in my conscience. Here he was, drawing attention to himself like a freshly cooked steak on a platter, desperately ringing a silver bell while crying "Eat me!" If I didn't know better, I'd say he-

My numbskull brain finally sorted itself out at full capacity; he was buying me time. I wiggled my toes first, and then the rest of my legs. Their muscles were burning and aching something fierce, and I wheezed in pain and fatigue. Slowly, I slipped right between the bear's open mouth, and made a dash for safer grounds once I was a fair distance away. The bear mercifully noticed little, only grunting in confusion at the child.

The boy continued to holler, and pointed his branch to a side briefly before waving it again. I followed his direction, and found my sword gleaming, even in the shade of the Lost Woods, stuck to the hilt in a thick tree. Blasted piece of metal, trying to imitate Excalibur. It wasn't even standing upwards.

I wrapped my hands around the handle, and pulled the sword out like a hot knife through butter, leaving a clean gash in the tree's bark.

_"Wait, is the sword is special?" Anna asked._

_Helge tilted his head upwards to the Princess. "I wouldn't be surprised."_

_So if this Prince Adam really became King of Arendelle, how come I never found a cool three-hundred-year old sword lying around in the castle? We just have a bunch of props!_

_Kristoff smirked. "Because I shudder to think about what you would do with such a thing, feistypants."_

_"Hey!"_

In one smooth motion, I slashed at the bear while its back was turned. The bear howled in terror, and turned around to see that I have wounded its rump, a small mixture of dark hair and blood dripping from its edge. A backside for a backside.

The bear bore its teeth at me, its black eyes following the light of my blade. I prepared myself for a mauling; despite the sword's abilities, it was just an oversized bread knife to this animal's furry and fat butt.

The bear shook the earth as it howled once more. He sounded... high-pitched, for a bear at least. and I raised my head to see that the grey-haired boy had stabbed the bear with his branch, applying all of his weight into the strike. He thrust repeatedly, ramming himself against the beast every time, each jab earning the bear's whimper for its efforts, as he ran over to my side. Evidently forgetting he was supposed to be paranoid of me, he continued to yell incoherently and waving the branch, its end stained with blood. I joined him with my own bellows, raising my dripping sword high in the air.

The mighty bear, finally realizing we were worth too much trouble, turned tail and ran.

* * *

**Page 68: **I breathed a sigh of relief, and sagged on top of a pile of leaves, my equipment clinking noisily. I gingerly touched my back, feeling a sour pulse of pain in reaction to my touch. Nothing too serious, but it would make for an impressive bruise when I get back home. Still, I smiled at the fleeing creature making rolling echoes in the distance, now barely visible among the trees. It wouldn't return here for a while.

I didn't want to fight the bear to the death. The end result would have either end up having the boy killed, or me too weak to protect him any further. I sheathed my sword, and turned to the boy, who stared at me with fright. He didn't run this time, at least. He owed me that much.

_"He seems nice." Olaf commented._

_Kristoff scowled. "He eats reindeer."_

_"Kristoff, I think you should just let it go."_

_"Coming from _you_, Olaf..."_

I cleared my throat, and assumed the most regal stance a man with back pain can offer. "My name -ach- is Prince Adam of Ravendall, and you are a complete fool for running away from me. If I haven't decided to pursue you, you would have just been one more ghost in these woods."

"I-I'm sorry," the boy said meekly, his filthy grey hair drooping as low as his demeanor. He flicked his eyes to my scabbard. "Is it okay if I tell you my name as well?"

I blinked twice. What kind of question was that? "I don't see why you shouldn't."

The boy inhaled, and stuck out an arm. "My name's Algar."

_Anna frowned. "Algar? What kind of name is that?"_

_"It's a rare one. It originated from what I believe is what you folks call England." Helge answered._

_Elsa thought of a distant land mass, located at the far end of the North Sea. "What would a boy from England do to end up in a country as far as Norway, much less Ravendall?"_

_"Good question, Elsa. Maybe's he's a lost prince?"_

_"Let's find out." Olaf suggested._

"My name's Algar."

"Where are your parents?"

He replied, rushed and clipped. "They aren't around."

"Well, Algar, I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but my aching back is saying otherwise. What on earth are you doing here?"

"I-I-I don't know," he stammered, dropping his tree branch. "I just hear this place has very little people."

I don't believe it; I found myself a wannabe hermit. Bad choice to stay, kid.

Algar's voice gained some strength. "What are YOU doing here?"

"I have a friend who told me of someone disturbing these parts. Didn't know it was a kid as young as you here." Naturally, it wasn't Guðmundr's job to care; I had to pick up the slack for him.

"Hey, I'm not a kid, okay? I'll have you know that I am fifteen!"

"Seriously? Only two years younger than me?" I poked him in the bony arms. "You're pretty scrawny for your age..."

"Oh!" The boy blushed furiously out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry for troubling you, then. I-I'll just be away from your sight, and never annoy you again…"

"Wait, Algar!"

Please, just go away! I don't want you to get hurt!"

Yep. Either he was lying about his age, or he was cursed to retain a perpetually waifish figure. If he were older, he would still look like an orphan boy, tossed on the streets.

"You can't just go running off again, you know?" I should have been treating him with more respect, considering the small age gap, but his behavior is akin to that of a jumpy child. "You'll only end up as food for something worse than a bear. Perhaps a giant, even!"

The boy's eyes widened. " A gia-" He coughed, and tucked his hands beneath his armpits. "But... I think it's best if you don't trouble me. This is my fifth day staying here. I can handle myself."

Something grumbled with a deep bass. I looked around in curiosity, certain that it wasn't a bear this time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Algar reflexively feel for his stomach. "Indeed, you are so capable, you can go on forever without food."

I picked up the boy's fallen tree branch, still stained with a spot of ursine blood. I drew a simple hunting knife from my belt, nothing special about it. "We've got no pole, but there is a lake nearby, with plenty to catch." I began cutting out errant twigs and leaves, intending to make a decent pole out of the branch. "I can at least teach you how to spearfish, then drop you off out of this forest. The last thing I need is to explain to myself why I left a kid to die in the wilderness."

"But-"

"Quiet, you. I'm being very generous for a prince here. Once I get you out of here, you can go on to live your dream as a hermit."

"A hermi-" I glared at the boy before he finished. His shoulders sagged with defeat. "Well…" Algar looked all around him, not particularly focused anywhere. "I suppose I could learn."

I grinned victoriously. "Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish…"

"...And he'll eat for a lifetime," Algar mumbled quietly.

Alright, now I _definitely_ have to help him.

_"Aw, Adam's actually sweet! He sounds just like you, sis!" Anna grinned up at Elsa._

_"I-I don't see the connection."_

_"He cares and helps people, even if he doesn't show it all the time."_

_"R-really..." Elsa said, slightly flustered._

_"Yeah! Didn't you shut yourself out and kind of accidently freeze summer because you wanted to protect Arendelle?"_

_"Olaf..." Kristoff warned._

_"Oh... I'm so sorry, Elsa. You can make it stop snowing now. You don't need to protect us anymore. We're happy and safe now, especially you!"_

_"...I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you."_

_Olaf beamed. "Wonderful! To celebrate everyone being happy, I'll go get some mugs of warm milk!"_

_Elsa smiled at the little snowman. There was nothing that needs forgiving. "Okay. Just don't go drinking the stuff yourself, Olaf."_

_"Don't forget cocoa on mine!" Anna called after him. She glanced at her sister. "Oh, put some in Elsa's too!"_

* * *

**Page 69: **The boy was indeed intelligent. He watched me with attentive eyes, full of a hunger for knowledge that the I myself wished I could express to my tutors, and maybe Trigve. He made sure to follow my deft movements with his new makeshift spear, practicing the motions over and over, until there was hardly a lack of clumsiness.

Within just half an hour, Algar had caught his first fish, a beautiful silver thing that was plump and juicy. Elated with his success, he nearly dropped the fish back into the lake by forgetting to hold onto it tightly. He was so full of excitement and pride, he could barely stand still as he watch me clean our catch. I showed him how to gut, to pull out gills, and to make a spit.

Throughout the entire lesson, he smiled, beaming brighter than the sun.

It looked good on him.

I laid some wood I picked from the forest floor, and tossed them to a pit I dug out. I pulled a flint from my pouch.

"Shouldn't we get some fuel to get the fire started first?" Algar looked at my belongings, perplexed. "You don't look like you have cotton on you. Hey, you can use a bit of my shirt-"

I laughed, saying, "Keep your shirt on, Algar. I have little fascination in a person like you!"

"W-what? What kind of answer is that?"

"Nothing, I'm just teasing you." I muttered a gentle word under my breath. "This wood should be more than enough to keep the fire going."

I struck my flint once, sending a single spark that landed on the pit. A great fire came forth, as intense as if it had been burning for hours on oil. Algar watched me in awe. "H-How did you do that?"

"I've got friends on the other side."

"You're a witch?"

The atmosphere suddenly became heavy. A summer birdsong was the only thing that was sharp enough to pierce the blanket of silence. The boy clasped his mouth, horrified at what he had done. My fingers felt for the pommel of my sword, and I was cautious of what to say next.

"That's a strange word, coming at me, coming from you."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. I relaxed myself, slipping my fingers away from the blade. Blasted, forest-induced paranoia. "It's just... these past five days, I saw so many magical happenings that still felt like dreams, and then you came along and save my life, and there's that thing that you did with the fire? You just seemed so relaxed in this place, you know? I was hardly able to survive, and you knew everything and how, despite not being a country man, but royalty! And, and-"

I cut off his rambling with a swipe of my hand. "Don't worry, I'm no witch." I pondered on the subject for a bit, entertaining a little fantasy about someone more powerful replacing me for ol' Guðmundr's services. "I would _like_ to meet one, though. It could get a load of work off of my back."

"...It must be nice to make and have friends..."

"You mean you've never had one?" He's just another kid, like the lonelier ones back at town who were the happiest to see me. Probably because I talked to them.

We spent the rest of the time talking about my (mis)adventures in Ravendall's Woods. I told him of the elf that slapped me so hard, I skipped like a stone on the lake surface, and the many times where I tried to comfort some ghosts so they would stop overcrowding the trees. I even described some of the messier stuff I had to do for pest control, such as chasing off a Fenrir. My back was feeling much better itself, with some roasted fish fueling its recovery.

It wasn't until we began packing up for the trip out did I approach the boy's hermit status. "So, why don't you hang around people?"

"I just don't..."

"Hm?"

"It's hardly worth the trouble."

It was getting late, and just convincing Algar to chat before was difficult enough. I raised my hands in a surrendering gesture. "Alright, alright. I won't ask... But seriously, it's not great to be alone forever."

What? I had to have my way _somehow_.

"I mean, look at my brother. He never spends time anywhere, just staying in the stuffy old castle, talking in various languages that all mean the same thing: work. He doesn't have any real friends to hang out with.

"That's why he gets on my case a lot, and hates that I don't listen to him. Every time I run off to the Lost Woods, the man does nothing but alternate between a worrywart and a workaholic. I have to prepare for a vocal whipping whenever I come home. What I say sounds foolish to him, and what he says sounds dull and trite. Trigve is beginning to fuss just as much as Mother did."

Mother. I paused myself, sobered.

What was it like, to overwork yourself day and night, with little rest? What was it like, to have no one to confide to after a long day, to have no one to feel secure with?

What was it like, to have only one family member who you can no longer connect to?

Algar and I walked on a path, one that I had discovered in my first week as Guðmundr's help, much to the delight of Ravendall's traders.

This road, one of several, contained the least amount of threats that prey on humans. They aren't perfect, especially as of recently, but paths like these cut straight through the woods with as little trouble as possible, saving hours of time. It wasn't long before we found ourselves outside, the mass of trees standing behind us. Ahead of the us were clear skies and open fields, serene and secure. The sun was beginning its daily dip down into the horizon.

The young man should do well from here. "You sure you'll be alright?"

Algar, the grey-haired boy, nodded. "Yeah. I've said it before. I can handle myself."

"Take care, then." I watched Algar as he hiked towards the open horizon, his dark silhouette contrasting against the fiery sky and grass. He could hardly take more than a few steps before I spoke to him again.

"Say... You're a little low on friends aren't you?"

The boy stopped and turned on his feet, but remained silent.

"How about I have the honor of being your first friend, Algar?"

"R-really?"

"Come on, kid," I drawled, ribbing him. "A Prince walks up to you to ask for friendship? Lesser folks would have given half a leg for such a privilege. You should be leaping with joy right now." I dropped the act, my voice sincere. "We had fun with each other, didn't we?"

"I guess..."

"Atta boy. If the hermit life no longer suits you, just find others like me. You'll be making some good companions pretty quickly!"

"I don't think most people are princes."

"Someone who _feels_ like me," I amended. Smart-aleck.

"What if..." He paused, slightly losing his composure. "What if... I want to see you again someday?"

Huh.

"I don't really know," I admitted. "Hopefully not in these woods, that's for sure. I'm sure we'll find each other somehow. You have a Prince's promise."

We stared at each other with straight faces. Then, we couldn't help ourselves. We broke into belly-aching laughter that rolled throughout the hallowed and haunted grounds. We saw it in each other's eyes; there was no chance in Hel of us ever seeing each other again. This is the fork in the road, and our brief meeting together was splitting apart into opposite directions.

That's fine with me.

"I'm being genuine about the 'friends' thing, though," I reaffirmed him.

"I know." Laughter still danced in the young man's eyes, truly happy for this eventful day. "Goodbye, Prince Adam of Ravendall."

"Farewell, and safe travels, Algar!"

* * *

"Helge, were you able to find the journal entry we were looking for?

Helge frowned, flipping past pages. "I hope we will soon, at least. This isn't the right date at all. I think I'm a few weeks away from the actual event, as of now." He raised his head to the blond man. "You seemed rushed, Kristoff."

"That would be because two of my friends were never raised by trolls." He gestured his head at the Royal Sisters.

Helge craned his stub of a neck to look. Indeed, Elsa was developing dark bruises under her eyes, and her posture was extra rigid and proper. She had been using her skills as a queen, normally limited to the boring political councils that would last for hours of useless debates on end with neither agreements nor compromises, to maintain consciousness. Nevertheless, several hours into the night had worn her regal disposition down, until she fought to keep her wavering eyelids open.

At Kristoff's mention of the word "friend," Elsa perked up, noticing the two observing her, and flitted her eyes between them, her cheeks pink. The air dropped a degree or two, but it was hardly evident.

Anna meanwhile, long ago had one foot in the land of dreams already. Her face appeared lively enough, but she would nod off, tilting her freckled head downwards every few seconds. Once her dainty chin touching her chest, she would spring awake with start, eyes wide, pigtails swinging, and freckles rendered nearly invisible, only to repeat the process once more. It would have been easier if she had decided to just pass out instead.

After just eight seconds, the Princess agreed with the sentiment. Completely out cold, her head flopped onto the table like a sack of snoring cabbages, startling poor Helge into falling off. A trail of saliva dribbled from her mouth, and onto the polished wood.

Kristoff was about to lean forward and wipe Anna's freckled cheeks and open mouth with a strong hand, but then became aware that her sister, his Queen, was sitting right in front of him.

Even after three weeks of living together, they hardly saw each other face-to-face; Elsa made sure to always retain enough time to spend with her sister daily, but buried herself in her private study in almost any other occasion. The mountain man would be ashamed to admit that he would prefer it this way.

It's not that Kristoff hated Elsa; he learned to love her almost as much as Anna does. In reality, he kept his distance out of doubt; he felt slightly guilty for being Anna's boyfriend, when Elsa literally owed her a lifetime of happiness together. Was Kristoff being a thief, for forcing Elsa to share Anna's precious love? Was he stealing Anna away from the sister who clearly craves Anna's affection more?

The Snow Queen's blue eyes, despite being the same shade as his loving girlfriend's, pierced his heart like sharp icicles.

He raised his hand towards Anna in hesitation, and found his confidence lacking. He tried again, but the Queen's curious stare was pushing him away from the Princess. He sighed, and settled for shaking the lady's shoulders gently.

Anna opened one eye lazily, the corners of her lips stretching from ear to ear upon seeing her boyfriend. Kristoff was nearly forced to look away from her radiance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Queen gazing at Anna, now completely relaxed and healthy-looking, a loving smile on her own face.

_Yet another difference between us two,_ he thought bitterly.

Helge finally crawled back onto the desk. "Everyone's wide awake and conscious now?"

"Yes, yes! I am very much awake, thank you! I am so, totally awake!" Anna piped. She wiped at her lips with her sleeve, and, with some disgust, rubbed the puddle of drool she left behind on the desk.

Helge laughed deeply, saying, "Since you guys have unfortunately not learned to become nocturnal yet, I suppose I would just have to rush through these journal entries until we find the right one, before you three expire from sleep deprivation."

"Sounds like a plan." Anna said, stifling a yawn.

He circled one page with a finger, muttering to himself ways to paraphrase. Helge would have to, because he will not be available during daylight, and Arendelle is constrained for time.

* * *

"**Page 70: **He chased a bandit named Holger into the forest one day. Holger was very infamous for pilfering homes and attacking innocents in Ravendall, and carried a spear that he claimed was made by the denizens of Hel. Overall, he wasn't too stable. Holger didn't see where he was going, ignoring Adam's requests to stop. He fell down a cliff to his doom before Adam can save him. The Prince locked himself in his room afterwards for hours, ignoring Trigve's reasoning that the man would have been executed anyway."

"Do the two brothers reconcile?" Elsa asked quietly.

"It doesn't say...

"**Page 73: **He was hunting a stag when he was approached by a black dog, about the size of a pony. Despite its mass was very friendly towards him, and only watched as Adam shot the deer down. Adam started telling it stories as he had always done, idly realizing the dog understood his language. They make a detour to the Lonely Ash Tree. The Landvættir was not amused to see the dog when it saw the two gnawing on some roast rib; Guðmundr waved a hand, and the dog's true form briefly rippled from its apparent body. The dog was revealed to be a Flygia in disguise."

Kristoff was slightly curious about this creature. "A Flygia?"

"Shapeshifter, follows one with good luck."

"Well, Adam is pretty lucky, from what we've heard," Anna reasoned. "It would make sense, I guess."

"They could also signify a 'change in luck.'

The library was silent in response to this statement.

"Guðmundr said the same thing to Adam, warning him to be careful. Adam heads out to leave, trying to shoo the Flygia away. The faux-dog continued to follow him, until it stopped at the very end of the forest, watching Adam make his way home.

**"Page 75: **Adam is working on consoling this one new ghost, Kjellfrid. She had..."

* * *

The troll's voice trailed off, leading to a very pregnant pause.

"What's wrong, Helge?" Kristoff asked.

The troll narrowed his eyes, his brows dangerously close to meeting each other. "I found it," he said quietly.

He looked up at the mountain man and the Royal Sisters. "This should hopefully be accurate to how we will expect the Spøkelse to attack." He lowered his voice. "Would you like me to paraphrase this part as well, or read it in full?"

Something did not seem right about that sentence. The answer should be obvious. But Anna, in a rare moment of consideration before speaking, decided that it must be elaborated. "Wait, what? Why is that even an option?"

"Because..." Helge hesitated. "Milady, knowledge can be horrifying at times. Five years under Grand Pabbie's tutelage has granted me nightmares and dark thoughts that required the entire Valley's support to crawl myself out of." He stared off into space and shuddered at some, distant memory that he had come to term with at one point. "I will not speak of them now, for the night is dark enough as it is. I have no wish to trouble your minds at this late hour, especially as we read the last pages of Adam the Adventurer's journal. If the late King had ever told you this part of the tale, he would have been wise enough to hold back information.

"What is written in this journal may have you three lose whatever capacity you had for sleeping, at least until the Spøkelse is finally rid of once and for all. You will fear, become paranoid of any hint that may lead a possible coming. Every step, every odd lighting, even simple thoughts, you will suspect them of the demon's influence. Prince Adam turned mad when still resting in Ravendall for a reason."

He breathed deeply, and faced the queen directly. "After what I have just told you, I would like to ask once more: Do you still want the full story?"

Helge knew Elsa was endowed with great human spirit within her, just like the rest of her expanded family. The outburst in the stables was more than proof enough. However, she was brittle as thin ice, and behaved ever-so meek and tentative since Helge's acquaintance; there was something restricting within her, an internally raging storm that Grand Pabbie had feared would snuff whatever hope Elsa could muster to bring forth.

So, when she abruptly stood up from her chair and slammed her hands on the table, the troll saw a white flame licking within her icy blue eyes, impassioned, terrific, and beautiful, threatening to break free. Her face was set, her dark brows arched downwards steeply, and Helge finally saw the Queen of Arendelle within Elsa.

There is hope against the Spøkelse of Ravendall, after all.

Anna leaned closer to her sister. "Elsa..."

"I want to listen to every detail," the queen said, with conviction. "As Queen, I have to know."

If what Helge said was true, and her kingdom is in grave danger, Elsa must have a full comprehension of what Arendelle will be up against. She had firsthand experience of the dangers of what a simple misinterpretation, a message lost in passing, can do.

It cost Elsa's beautiful kingdom a monarch equally fit to rule it. It cost her parents their lives and legacy. It nearly cost her Anna.

"This will be for the kingdom's protection. If I will suffer sleepless nights or a fate worse than death, so be it." Shards of ice, glittering with a fire like diamonds, sprouted between Elsa's fingertips. They were not products of her fears and anxieties now, but a manifestation of her revealed resolve. "I will not have my people harmed by any threats so long as I'm in reign."

_I will not lose my people. __I will not lose my family again._

_That is a Queen's promise._

* * *

**So anyway, everyone give a massive applause to FrozenRose1, who had done an outstanding job already as an editor with this chapter. She was able to turn my fanfic into something that was up to snuff, rather than just an amateur work with promise. **

**I'm also massively grateful for what she has done with the in-between storytime dialogue. You know, the ones that were italicized. No, she didn't actually write the talking, but FrozenRose1 pointed out that there needed to be actual dialogue markings, rather than just the words itself.**

**I thought I was being clever at the time, intending for you readers to guess who was talking to who, so I nearly shot myself in the foot that there.**

**So, I was grateful that she took the time to add the myriad of different ways to write "said." Flipping hotcakes, I could never come up with such terms that could feel fresh by myself. Rose, you saved me at least an hour of migraines.**

**I think that makes parts of this chapter hers. Credit where credit is due, right?**

**Once again, everyone give a cheer for FrozenRose1!**

**As a heads-up, can't make any promises this week that a new chapter will be out. Certainly, I can guarantee it will come by next week, bu****t It's a new school semester, so I cannot devote as much time to this story during school; I'd have to pick up the slack at home.**

**No need for concern about Rose, though. She finished her editing job within the day. So, if you had been waiting forever for the next _Have Courage, Elsa_ installment, you only have me to blame.**

**Oh, and here's a question for you guys that clearly has nothing to do with the Spøkelse (Nothing at all. Period. This is in no way a Suspiciously Specific Denial): If an uber-powerful monster were to go on a rampage around town, would it be more like Disney to keep it alive, vanquish it, or send it running?**

******Like, fave, comment, or whatever. Let me know how well of an editing job did you think Rose has done compared to my previous writings, and/or what you think of this chapter. Don't forget to answer the question!**

**See you guys soon, Fans of _Frozen._**


	8. Chapter 8: Sorcery

**Well. I will probably never find myself in a _Frozen_ Sing-Along. "sigh" ****So disappointed.**

**On the other hand, I did watch a video of the audience singing "Let it Go," which filled me with warm cuddles and sunshine over how _earnest _everyone was. Especially the way the little tykes stood up on their chairs and raise their hands to praise the Snow Queen. How adorable.  
**

**But, I cringed at the pitches they were hitting as well. Including the children.**

**_Especially _the children.**

**I'm sorry! It's just ****I've had some real draconian music teachers in my time (one was even sacked for stepping over some lines), and they must have rubbed off on me.**

**Sorry about the later update, guys. It was a... slow week. I hope I could make it up to you readers with an even longer chapter.**

**Yes.**

**I'm also slightly annoyed at the recent crackdown on the Kill La Kill OST lately. Can't find it on Youtube anymore. I have been listening to it for inspiration **** (paradoxically) **while writing this. I had to settle with Everything is Awesome. 

**"BLEEP", I wanna watch _The Lego Movie_ so badly.**

**Once again, give a hand to FrozenRose1, who was able to turn gibberish into coherence within merely an hour or two of editing last night. Rose, you are the beta-reader that I never knew I desperately needed.**

**Oh, all rights go to Disney.**

* * *

Chapter 8

Sorcery

* * *

"If I will suffer sleepless nights or worse, so be it. I will not have my people harmed by any threats so long as I'm in reign."

_That is a Queen's promise._

Helge bowed to Elsa and widened his mouth into a rueful smile. He faced to Anna next, understandably hesitant for the young lady. "I don't see a need to repeat my words. So...?"

Anna straightened her back, looking very briefly like the queen besides her. She had ever only done this once, when she set out to bring Elsa back from her self-exile. "If Elsa agrees, then so will I."

"Anna, you don't have to do this..." Elsa protested.

Anna flashed her sister a fearless smile. "A Princess should be able to protect her people just as much as their Queen can." She bumped Elsa in the shoulder gently. "I've done it once before, and I will be glad to do it again. I am your right-hand woman, after all."

"Count me in as well." Kristoff announced, butting into Elsa's train of thought before she could argue against her sister. "It was only three weeks ago when we saved Arendelle from an Eternal Winter." He gave his own daring grin. "What can a single monster do to compare against a force of nature?"

"Kristoff..." Elsa said.

"Especially when we have the Queen of Ice and Snow on our side." he added proudly.

Anna ceased her regal and straight-backed pose, replacing it with a tender face that bloomed with endearment, her blue eyes shining bright as stars. "Elsa, just because you are the Queen does not mean you have to defend Arendelle by yourself." Anna lifted her sister's cold hands in hers, blanketing them with her palms, so Elsa could feel the sweet warmth that tingled against her chill skin and wintry powers. Anna's sister relaxed and looked down, focusing on the dainty hands that held her pale arms aloft. "Kristoff and I will be right behind you. So will Olaf, Sven, Helge, and every one of our friends, together."

Elsa's eyes grew misty, obscuring her sight, and she blinked the tears away. A vision flashed in front of her eyes, so not only Anna, Kristoff, and Helge stood in front of her, but also people of all aspects and colors of life, ranging from royal servants, to soldiers, snowmen, ice harvesters, cooks, families, and even vagrants. They were crammed tightly in the library, fighting for an open space, so Elsa could have a good look at each of their familiar faces.

_Did I really have this many people who would place their hopes in a weakling like me?_

Elsa made an effort to smile at all of them, nodding her head happily in appreciation.

Helge nodded. "I believe everyone has made their decision, then." He cleared his throat. "There is no time to delay; the last adventure of Prince Adam of Ravendall shall be revealed."

* * *

**Page 75: **I was truly grateful for riding with my lifelong friend Appelsin that day. I owed the horse my life several times over for having not abandoned me, and remaining bold and obedient in the doorway to death. When I rode to battle to ward off an army of orcs, Appelsin was the one who never entertained the thought of running away. When we were attacked by Dark Fenrirs, Appelsin was the one who protected me from their teeth and sharp claws. When we ran afoul of malevolent hags with a serial desire for transmuting victims into gardens, Appelsin was the one who gladly offered himself as a distraction, before attacking anyway. His hooves and legs have certainly fell more monsters than my skills, protection, and enchanted sword combined.

I was truly blessed to have him for my steed, because Appelsin was a braver person than I could ever be, even as a horse. If he were a human, than he would have succeeded where I have failed Kjellfrid miserably.

She was a beautiful, innocent young lady, with hair that fell down in waves, reaching long past her back. They floated in nonexistent wind, surrounding her head in a halo of refracted light. Her eyes, despite being a common shade of brown, shone with grace that rivaled that of elves, with twice the compassion present. Her lovely face was in the shape of a heart, and if she smiled, her full lips and dimples could have melted glaciers off mountains.

That was, if she was capable of smiling anymore.

She died alone, like so many others who lost themselves in Ravendall's haunted woods. This was supposed to be my third week trying to console her.

I really detested the Lost Woods at times like this. Despite the many spoils and cherished moments that I was fortunate to receive, there were occasions where I wished I never ventured into the forest that one year ago. I was forced into a world that essentially destroyed the innocence and joy I was raised to expect from living as a second-born Prince. Being Guðmundr's aide opened me to a world of constant danger, and forced me to come face-to-face with others less luckier than I, some I recognized from the very same town squre in Ravendall, where I like to tell my stories in.

Kjellfrid was one such person, a young lady who always hung around as I told anecdotes to children. That was, until she mysteriously disappeared weeks ago. I never realized how beautiful and sweet she was until I found her nearby a boulder, broken as a discarded and disheveled doll.

A part of my regular duties was to prepare ghosts for what comes next, so they will no longer have any lasting attachment to this world. Guðmundr cannot clear them out by himself, for he was not anywhere close to human to empathize with them properly.

So, when I made the deal with him, he assigned me as, among other things, a custodian to the overcrowding ghost population. Technically, I was supposed to erase them with the sword given to me; I could use it, as he subscribed, to annihilate them as one would do with pests. They do have a capacity for violence after all; a dead person still walking is also a very bitter person, sometimes willing to lash out at others.

That is just one of the few unpleasant things about the old geezer; he's essentially a minor god, with little to no concern for things as trivial as a human's morals. He would never understand just how _difficult_ such a task is for my sanity. To use a weapon on someone who deserved only pity...

Instead, I took the fool's route; I searched for their bodies, sometimes stealing them away from the very creatures that had killed them. I conducted funerals, burying them with my own two hands. I sympathized with them, learning more about their lives before talking some sense into them, until they finally ascend and disappear from life, including mine, once and for all.

Sometimes, in the end... I still have to use the sword.

It was a vicious tango, this road that I have chosen: to make friends who will only vanish forever at the end of the day.

Kjellfrid's story was one of the more upsetting, and I can recall more sources of death than I could ever care to count: the lady was separated from her family, and had been chased into the Lost Woods by hostile men at the middle of the night. Just as she managed to escape, she fell prey to a stalking Fenrir. She didn't even know she had been killed, until I found her ghost stumbling through the woods, calling desperately for help.

She no longer spoke anymore after we found her. For real.

I entered a massive tree hollow, an old relic of an age long past. It still stood strong and proud, despite being as dead as a snag could be. I found it a fitting place to bury her body, which is why I expected her to be here.

I called her name gently, enunciating each syllable so they echoed throughout the hollow cleanly. Ghosts are very particular of their identity, being so isolated and all. Along with memories, a name and profile is all a phantom has left. Like loners of the living realm, a call for a ghost's name would have about as much of an effect on them as a small lightning strike. They will come almost instantaneously.

And yet, Kjellfrid did not respond.

_Perhaps she decided to accept her fate and move on_, I thought.

Of course, that was just wishful thinking. The girl was too far gone with anguish to achieve Ascension on her own. I touched the inner walls of the hollow, wary and unsure. More than a year spent in this forest had given me a sense that something was amiss. The air was too cold for the summer, and the blue sky, despite being clear of any clouds, was two shades too dark.

Then, I saw it.

It was a grey, translucent thing that stood all by itself, blocking the opening out of the hollow. It was not a lady. It was not a man. It did not even look like a monster. It was just this grey... blob. It had no arms to speak of, no mouth, no eyes, not even feet to stand upon. Every few seconds, the blurry silhouette flickered like a grey candle flame, briefly shifting into a vague humanoid form, before returning to an amorphous shape again.

_I remember you_

I blinked, absolutely certain that I've never even seen this thing before.

Oh, there was no doubt that it was a ghost: I've seen some that looked like melted wax models, because they were dead for so long they began to forget their own appearance. That's one of the special things about ghosts; you are what you recall, and this one must have been far, far from capable of identifying itself. I raised a finger to point at the grey thing. "Excuse me, spirit, but I do not remember ever meeting you. Are you new here?"

_spirit_

_not my name_

_I am new to you_

I winced; its voice was heavily altered modulated, like arranging an entire church choir of the most tone-deaf wannabe-chorus members in the world. At some syllables, its words shifted to dominance by a child's, other times a full grown man's, and even those of a few different women.

With its mishmash of voices and its shapeless figure, it must have lost much of its individuality. It also claims to know me, and yet I have never been introduced to it in my life.

I reflected on a little phrase I wrote in my journal to complain about my brother, weeks ago, a phrase that now made the skin on my back crawl in sudden terror.

_I didn't even mention about the decreasing ghost population..._

What if this apparition was shapeless, specifically because this figure is no longer individual? What if it recognized me because it possessed memories that did not originally belong to it?

Only one type of creature possesses qualities like this.

Only a Spøkelse could fit such a description.

Suddenly, I was very dubious of the creature standing at the entrance into the hollow, looking at me with its false innocence. A Spøkelse is a major-league threat, on par with the destructive capabilities of a rogue warlock. It is the result of at least two souls linking together, then fusing into a single form, which mercifully happens rarely. The link occurs like how relationships, not necessarily positive or negative, are formed in real life; something mutual to bind them together. Normally, this is no reason for concern, as about 99% of all the creatures in this world have absolutely no idea how to apply such a concept to deadly levels, although humans come dangerously close.

Unfortunately, ghosts are a vastly different story. As they are the product of despair, fear, denial, and rage against fate, these emotions will also be what their "bonds" consist of. In other words, a Spøkelse from the get-go would be unpleasant, and its behavior would only go downhill with every spectral addition. That is not even mentioning the amount of power it gains from consumption of spirits. Who knows how many lost souls had this thing absorbed into itself?

I rested a hand on my holster, my fingers lightly brushing against the handle of my sword. "What is your name, friend?"

_friend..._

My voice became slightly more clipped and forceful. "You did not answer my question, fellow soul. What is your name?"

The apparition flickered in place once more, twitching and jerking like an irritated flame. Whispers came from within it, an unfocused mess that could have been mistaken for a pit of venomous snakes. The mere sound gave me a compulsion to scratch an itch that never existed.

I gritted my teeth, and kept on talking. "Speak up, ghost. Tell me your name, loud and clear."

_al_

_jel_

_Ho_

_sa_

_eir_

I was not entirely surprised at this response. Despite the very real dangers a Spøkelse can commit, it is still a mixture of past lives that were never meant to fuse together. Otherwise, humans would have never been so individualized. Its mind must have been too scrambled to formulate anything, much less complete sentences. I proceeded to push further "Surely, you have a name that belongs to you?"

_You should at least remember which one of you decided to consume fellow ghosts first, demon._

_Hol_

_geir_

_Name is_

_is_

The grey creature's voice hardly changed from its warbled mess, but a sort of clarity was finally achieved, as if this screeching chorus of voices was enforced this time, rather than continue as simple chaos. Some of the multitude of hollow voices were actually speaking at the same time now, albeit still in completely different pitches and accents that grated against the ears like a knife sharpener.

_my name is Hólmgeirr_

"Right," I said affirmatively. It's given name is not guaranteed to be the culprit's actual identity; Hólmgeirr could be a mixture of names and factors made coherent. There's a chance that the Spøkelse gave its true name, the one belonging to the first spirit to reject its fate and consume another. Perhaps the true ghost's real name was in a different language entirely, and that the majority of Scandinavian phantoms in Ravendall affected its nationality. Maybe it was fabricated, compiled from the several spirits it had absorbed. Of course, it could just be simply lying. I don't see why something like that couldn't happen.

Still, I spoke the given name, making sure I pronounced each and every syllable right, every accent in a perfect imitation of how the ghost introduced itself. To confirm its name, I infused my voice with the mental equivalent of reaching out a helping hand. Not to help the Spøkelse (the monster was as much to ghosts as cannibals are to people), but the poor unfortunate souls that are trapped within it. "_Hólmgeirr_."

For a split second, the ghost shook violently in place, rather than just flickered. The amorphous shape spewed a darkly grey mist from its entire being, so the I was able to have a glimpse inside.

I nearly threw up at the sight of the Spøkelse. Its core, its true self, was a bald, twisted little figure, made of a grey and lustrous material that could have been iron. Its body glowed dully against the sunlight entering the tree hollow. Angry patches and welts covered what was supposed to be skin, looking like regions that have been worn down by years of rust. Its teeth was the only body part that appeared to be actually organic, yellowed tombstones set in its metal gums.

The thing knew it was hideous; it covered its face behind severely rusted hands, and stared at me with empty eye sockets in horror and shame as it peeked through its skeletal fingers. It shook its hands desperately in front of it, clawing for the mist to withdraw back within itself. I peered, and saw faint faces in the grey smog, their empty eyes and mouths opened in anguish, but no sound came forth from their lips. Once more, The Spøkelse was a featureless, shapeless grey shadow.

All of this happened by just speaking its _given_ name.

I bowed slightly to the Spøkelse, without diverting my eyes for a single instant. "I am Prince Adam of Ravendall. We are currently in Ravendall's Lost Woods, and I have a business to run." My fingers wrapped around the handle of my sword, gripping it tightly. "Have you seen any fellow ghosts nearby here?"

_yes_

_you are Adam_

_how can I forget_

"So... you do know?" I took a tentative step forward, closer to the monster standing in front of me. I was careful not to let my boots crunch and turn over dead leaves and compost.

_yes_

"Then I have something to ask of you, friend." I drew my sword slowly, conscientious to make myself appear as little as a threat as possible, as if I had no intention of ever using it against the Spøkelse. The blade shone brightly without reflecting any sources of light, and illuminated the entire hollow as a burning lamp could have done. I pointed at the ground, a somewhat fresh rectangular patch of dirt, where a sweet girl's body was buried, and my voice turned hard. "Where. Is. Kjellfrid?"

Once again, the spirit flickered, drifting from side-to-side rapidly. A faint echo bounced off the tree walls, a delicate voice that was smothered almost immediately, before it could free itself from the demon's babel

_Adam _

_friend_

_she is not tucked in an empty tree all by herself anymore_

_she has a new people to belong to_

_no longer alone_

My eyes widened in comprehension of these words, and my fists shook with hostility. The gleaming sword rattled as I glared at the Spøkelse with complete hatred. "You monster, you've devoured her!" I screamed.

_no_

_I helped her_

_I have given her a home_

_everyone is united_

_she is no longer alone_

_I am no longer alone_

_Kjellfrid was able to achieve companionship_

You did nothing of the sort!" I spat acidly. "What you have merely done was locking an innocent girl away from ever moving on from this world. You have trapped her in a prison of isolation and depression until the very land of Hel freezes over, unless exorcised by force!"

The demon moved backwards, shock somehow evident in its shapeless figure. It was taken aback by my sudden ferocity.

_I have been helping like you did_

_these souls are now forever bonded_

My entire body was shaking in fury. My heart pumped against my head in a raging drumbeat. Not only was this Spøkelse a monster, but it was utterly abhorrent in its stupid, childlike outlook in its death. "'Bonded,' sure, if what you really mean was 'bounded in thorns and manacles!' You are only prolonging their suffering! They shouldn't persist in that maelstrom of despair within you!"

_oh Adam_

_what can you possibly know about humans_

_Are not they social creatures_

_no matter how miserable their pitiful lives can be_

"Shut up." I seethed. "I'm regretting that I ever wasted my time talking to you." I pointed my sword directly at the demon, in absolutely no mood for this joker. "Be at peace, monster, and release those who you have chained and suffocated within you."

_no_

_no_

The Spøkelse's form was wavering severely now, even shivering, as one would expect a candle flame to do if a strong breeze was set to exhaust it. I can see a silhouette of the creature, shrouded in a miasma of despair, clutching its head like a broken patient, writhing in internal agony.

_I am not alone_

_I do not want to be by myself again_

_even if I have to endure with loathsome humans_

"Weren't you human, too?"

_I have long discarded my humanity_

_I was always a monster_

_no longer will I be held down by human fate_

_by disgusting and fleeting hopes and dreams_

_I am strong now_

_I am free to do what I wish_

My sword emitted a radiance as blindingly white as the heart of a star, bleaching the entire tree hollow in beams until no other color existed. "Then I will have to discard that notion, _Hólmgeirr_, you Lost Spøkelse!" I roared. In an dazzling arc that lingered in the air, painted white by the intensity of the blade, I slashed at the shadowed being.

Contrary to popular belief, apparitions are not intangible; ghosts can indeed be affected by human hands. While they cannot be killed a second time, they _can_ be injured and/or incapacitated, until they no longer have the will to remain phantoms. Hence the sword that was gifted to me, which I had used rarely out of... desperation.

You see, there is a trick involved when it comes to fighting spirits and supernatural creatures of darkness; a fight for them is actually clash of willpower. The two warring parties must do battle by pitting their souls against each other as weapons, until either their physical vessels succumb to injury, OR their hearts can no longer resist subjugation to the winner. It is just like a real war between people.

For example, take the recurring belief that ghosts can be able to touch and attack their victims, leaving mysterious bruises and scratch marks, whenever they want to. That is the mistaken viewpoint of an overly superstitious rumormonger. In reality, the victim was rendered delirious by the ghost beating his spirit and will down, until he can no longer control himself, and dig his fingernails into his skin out of induced madness.

A livid shade literally cannot do anything _else_, for they no longer have a physical body to actively injure or hurt with.

By that logic, one can feed ghosts, even a Spøkelse, a taste of their own medicine.

Unfortunately, there is a reason why the rumor of a ghost's supposed intangibility will not be disproved anytime soon. Anyone can learn to fight a shade... with patience. It is really a matter of practice: to attack a phantom, you would have to be able to focus your soul, to concentrate and manipulate it into a tool for attack and defense. Slayers of monsters, including Noaidi priests and Catholic Saints, were given beautiful titles and glory, specifically_ because _they were capable of manifesting their souls into their magic, swords, staves, or even bare hands. Such prowess require spiritual meditation for several years on end. A few well-known heroes have trained themselves for longer than the years I had existed. I myself never meditated a day in my life.

Which is why I cheated.

I felt a little recoil as the blade bounced off the iron core. A piercing ring sounded from the impact, echoing in the hollow's walls until my ears nearly couldn't tolerate it. Within the smog, pierced by the sword's blinding light, I saw the Spøkelse clutch at its chest, a radiant white gash streaking from where its pelvis should be, all the way up to its left shoulder.

The sword, a Viking Ulfberht that had seen use before humans had fully settled in Norway, was an enchanted conduit for my abilities. Blessed by Guðmundr, Landvættir of the Lost Woods, its magic allowed me to easily channel my spirit into its double-edge with just a word, so long I was under Guðmundr's employment. Flesh or ectoplasm, it didn't matter to the weapon. It had served me for over a year, by evening a playing field that lumps ordinary humans with so many disadvantages.

I smiled wolfishly as it cried and howled with pain, and its body suddenly vented grey miasma with the force of a volcano eruption. Instinctively, I shielded my face from the blast, and-

* * *

It was late into nighttime, the pale moon shining above me as I breathed heavily and wiped sweat away from my eyes. I was taking my first few steps into the dark forest. It was a foolish decision to do so, but I needed to escape from those bandits. Nobody in their right mind would enter the Lost Woods, and there were no other locations nearby where I could hope to lose them.

_And,_ I reasoned to myself,_ if that fearless fool Prince Adam can survive the Lost Woods, than surely I can at stand a chance, at least until those men give up finding me._

From behind me, I could hear the storming of heavy boots, the clinking and clanking of metal tools. There was no time to stop and think.

Running through the thick woods of Ravendall proved to be nearly impossible. I could hear the men shouting curses behind me, the lanterns they carried creating elongated and monstrous shadows that slithered and pursued me individually from their masters.

I leaped over a tree root, and screeched in panic as the outfit I wore was suddenly pulled, jerking me backwards. I snapped my head down to see that my dress had snagged itself onto loose branches. The dress contained too many loose ends that would only slow me down. Desperately, I tore at my clothes, swinging my arms wildly as I ripped out its hems and part of my skirt. Ribbons and torn pieces of rags drifted out into the dark night, forever lost.

I darted my head back, my hair whipping behind, and saw men with their crossbows. They didn't see me yet, but they were getting closer.

Frantically, I pulled at the last remaining fabric of my dress, and was thrust forward by my own weight. I slammed into the forest floor, the soil and roots scratching my cheeks and nose. I spat hair and dirt out of my mouth. My lungs were wheezing in protest, my legs were on fire, but I picked myself off the ground and continued running.

"She's over there! Get her!"

"Stop running and give yourself up, already!"

The forest, a natural world wonder that was untouched for who knows how long, contained ground that was never tamed by human hands. There were instances where I was knee-deep in dead leaves, slowing me down to an uncomfortable crawl, or where my feet floated a second more than I would have anticipated them to. I tripped over hidden roots, and lost my balance often, bumping into shrubs and other forest greens. Besides my chemise, I had little protection against the repeated scrapings of the rough tree bark. Welts formed all over my hands and feet, burning and stinging angrily, but I hardly cared.

I didn't see the steep downhill until it was too late. My foot slipped on loose dirt at the very edge, and it sank almost down to my shin. I was flipped over my head, my world briefly turned upside down, and I felt a distinct weightlessness that lasted until I hit the side of the hill in a roll. My head spun painfully, and I was pressed against dried leaves and fallen branches.

Miraculously, I did not slam into any tree trunks, and I eventually slowed to a stop. Disoriented, I couldn't tell whether or not the ground was actually as slanted as it appeared, or if that was a product of my confusion.

I spotted a white stone outcropping, a sharp boulder that jutted out at an angle not quite parallel to the forest floor, leaving a narrow gap underneath. The idea seemed absolutely absurd, but I realized my body could squeeze under; it could make for an instant hiding place.

I crawled on my belly as I entered the dark and dank little shelter. Like a terrified cat, I tucked myself underneath that rock outcropping, listening for the signs of incoming danger as my body pulsated in pain and fatigue.

"Where is that kut!?"

"Search around! She couldn't have gotten far!"

"I think I saw her tracks, over here!"

My heart rammed hard against my throat, a giant staccato on repeat that threatened to burst out from my chest. I nearly choked in of fear, but I clamped my hand up to my mouth. I breathed heavily through my nose, hardly providing enough air to supply my burning lungs. My legs twitched and cramped from the ordeal I had put them through. I was tempted to move them into a different position, but that would draw attention to my location.

I listened in discomfort for the boots that brushed and kicked aside dirt and leaves, boots that were coming closer to where I was hiding...

_One... Two... Three..._

I counted slowly to myself, anything besides imagine being dragged out in the open forcefully to monstrous faces and eyes, like a fresh catch in a hunt.

_Thirty-eight... Thirty-nine..._

In the tight space beneath the rock, the air was getting stuffier. It was becoming harder and harder for me to breathe.

_Seventy-two... Seventy-three..._

Wait. Their footsteps... they were fading away! They weren't heading in my direction at all!

I just barely prevented myself from wriggling free from under the rock, and gulping for fresh air. For all I know, bandits could still be out there, waiting and biding their time until I crawled out of my hiding spot in a false sense of security. I could be snatched like a poached rabbit. I continued counting.

_Ninety-four... Ninety-five..._

It was only after I reached three hundred when I finally believed it was safe enough to investigate.

The night was absolutely silent and still; not a single insect or bird chirped in the forest. Such woods should be considered completely unnatural, and it only added to my anxiety.

The white moonlight peeked into my hiding place, spilling inwards like overturned milk.

I crawled my way out from beneath the rock, and brushed off the dirt and forest refuse. I was truly grateful it was midsummer; all I had on was just my undergarment now. I turned my head around, hoping there was nothing waiting for me here.

There was only more silence in the woods. For some, unfathomable reason, the night was devoid of any nighttime animals that would have been at complete home in a forest as vast as this. The moonlight combined with the night skies to paint the woods in surreal splashes and shades of indigo and violet hues. The trees decorating the landscape stood tall and straight, only to spread and bend out and downwards threateningly like creatures that stalk in dreams. The leaves of the forest canopy hardly moved or swayed in this windless night. Thanks to the soundless atmosphere, I felt more like I was staring at a still portrait drawn by a bored author, than a nervous reality.

I gazed uphill, hoping I will be able to climb up and retrace my steps-

A powerful blow struck me from behind, heavy and overwhelming, pinning me to the floor. There was an audible, horrible crack that split the night air, and I was suddenly numb from my neck down. It was an oddly delicious feeling, to be no longer tormented by the complaints and limitations of my body. The only thing left to feel was my own heartbeat, which was beginning to slow down...

_...Sixty-six..._

My vision faded to black...

...It's cold...

_Sixty-seven... Sixty-eight... Sixty-nine..._

* * *

My eyelids fluttered open, seeing green leaves that swayed back and forth, and permitted sunlight to briefly invade and stab at my eyes. I felt the ground shift beneath my back; I was being dragged away roughly on the forest floor. Heavily groggy, my body close to paralyzed of all its senses, my brain was still in complete terror of being hunted down and killed.

_Seventy... Seventy-one..._

Some of my mental functions started coming back to me, and I tilted my head upwards ponderously, a task I never thought would be this difficult. Something snorted heavily, its massive body a dark smudge in my bleary eyes, and I saw the gleam of ivory jaws that pulled on my boot, carrying me further through the trees and wood.

_Fenrir!_

I pushed myself off the ground and withdrew my legs, trying to crawl away on my back, away from the beast that held me firmly between its teeth.

_Eighty-one..._

Even in self-defense mode, I was still reeling from that invasive memory. Every other time that I blinked my eyes, the emerald green shades of the forest were replaced by the vivid, violet monochrome of the night scenery, accompanied with panic and paranoia.

My head split apart at the cranium, and my vision flashed a dull red. Gasping in pain, I nursed my throbbing head, and looked up to see that I had bumped my head against a tree, hard.

I looked back down at the animal, and found that it was merely Appelsin; he had been the one dragging me away. I breathed rapidly, my chest pressing and thumping tightly and uncomfortably against my armor. I still felt an overwhelming need to count to myself, which hardly seemed reasonable now. The horse walked over to my position, regarding me with level eyes.

"E-eighty-three... W-were you the one who s-saved me?"

The horse said nothing. He didn't need to. I sat myself straight to pat him on the neck with one hand. Applesin whinnied softly with appreciation. Again, he had to pull a hero act, saving me once more from death, without fearing his own.

I brushed his mane past my left fingers tenderly as I struggled to remembered what had just happened.

That time at night... it was real, all of it. The forest and stone outcropping had been real. Those people hunting me down had been real. Who I _was _had been real. It was a visceral, terrifying reality that plagued my thoughts constantly as I sat.

It just wasn't a reality for me.

It didn't take me long to put two and two together; that vision, that utter nightmare was the last living memory of Kjellfrid.

I put my hands up to my face, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I've had experienced some truly spectacular mental attacks in my time, and this one was relatively high tier. When the Spøkelse had counterattacked me with that smog, it had been infused with some of the girl's memories, specifically her dying moments.

...The Spøkelse.

Oh no, I haven't defeated it at all! The only thing I've only ever done was injure it, making it angry! It's still running wild in these woods, free to wreak havoc in the forest, free to prey on the weak and unprotected, free to consume even more dark spirits and grow!

I let it escape scot-free.

I failed a sweet innocent young girl, who is now trapped in a pocket Purgatory.

Kjellfrid's last remaining moments replayed itself in my head once more, causing me to wince and shiver with dread. Thanks to the Spøkelse, I had just died once. If it weren't for my horse, it would have likely killed me for real right there, skills and magic sword be damned.

The sword! I shoved my left fingers into the scabbard, alarmed to see that it was empty.

"A-Appelsin," I cried desperately. "Did I leave my sword back..." I swallowed hard, my mouth painfully dry. "...there?"

The horse blinked its soft eyes once, and nuzzled my right arm. I lifted it to touch him, and exhaled with amazement and relief when I saw that the sword was safely and tightly in my grasp. Unconsciously, I had kept the Viking weapon in my hand with an iron grasp. I haven't even noticed my arm muscles were beginning to tremble and feel sore from holding it so tensely.

That fog... no, I wasn't rendered unconscious at all. I was rendered unaware, forced to relive a life that wasn't even mine.

Appelsin made a soft sound, tapping me with his muzzle twice.

"What is it boy?" I followed his wary gaze, and looked around the tree behind my back. An unpleasantly grey mist, thick enough to blot out every detail of the normally beautiful and lush woods, was racing through the forest, like raging floodwaters after a broken dam.

I yelped and panicked. I couldn't subject myself to a new nightmare, a new death. Frantically, I grabbed Appelsin by the reins, mounting him, almost squealing, "Hurry, take us home!"

He obliged without hesitation, and we rode through the winding forest like the wind, followed behind by thick supernatural clouds that smothered the forest lands in a rapid pace, like the storming of volcanic fumes. They washed, splashed, and crashed against trees and rocks like breaking waves, never relenting, never stopping.

After minutes of riding, dodging low branches and shrubs, and leaping over fallen trees that could have slowed Appelsin down, Ravendall's capital was within sight.

Something brushed against my back, scraping against my cheeks, causing itchy goose bumps to crawl down my arms and legs. The rush of fog zoomed past Appelsin and I, faster than the horse could ever gallop. I shut my eyes and twisted my brows into one of concentration, preparing myself to guard for yet another vision.

It never came. I opened my eyes in a squint and quickly closed them again. I had to try two more times to confirm that I was in the same place, on the same horse, in the same time.

Appelsin slowed his gallop to a trot, and then to a complete stop. We have reached the outskirts of town.

Curiously, I waved at the fog, feeling chills as I touched... something. It was almost indescribable, really. I've been calling this substance a mist, but it is so much more than that; the clouds floating low in the air had texture like uneven clumps of dust, or ashes from burning fires. They left no cool, gentle sensation like ordinary vapor, but instead rubbed disagreeably against my skin like ghostly sandpaper. It was as if I've been licked by the rough, dry tongue of a corpse, over and over again, all around my entire body. No doubt, sucking this kind of haze in would have been absolute torture to the lungs and throat... If it was actually possible.

I dismounted from the horse, looking at myself first, and then at Appelsin. His wide nostrils flared, but not out of irritation. The darkly grey clouds floated all around him, almost shrouding the horse in what can pass for a robe, but there was a clear lack of motion that indicated it was inhaled. For some reason, the smoke was perfectly able to smother everything, but within our bodies.

"Hey, Prince Adam! How was your trip?"

I staggered and fell on my backside, my heart struggling to free itself from my chest cavity. A dark shadow had loomed over my right shoulder, and I nearly pulled out my sword in self-defense before a thick, knobbly hand materialized in front of my nose. I peered through the fog at the silhouette.

The sudden intrusion was no ghost, but merely the local bartender Mark, a man as thick as he was tall, with a deep, basoon voice to match. If he had noticed my sudden overreaction, he didn't let it show in his posture. Gingerly, I took his offering hand so he could pick me up.

"Your Highness? You seem a little... jumpy."

"It's fine," I muttered, holding my arms close to myself. I craned my neck left and right, slightly lost. "I-it's nothing serious." I stepped a little closer to Mark's side, feeling a bit more secure. I couldn't just have Appelsin to accompany me in this situation, after all. The guy was a bit of a skinflint, but he ran a quality bar that I frequented. He was literally the best option I had within reach.

"Oh... okay, sir." Mark took in a deep breath, and looked down the road. "Crazy fog we are having, huh?"

I couldn't see even a two meters beyond the mysterious grey mist. The fog was like a cloud of smoke and ash, and yet there were no floating particles to suffocate on. Even stranger, my skin did not feel the cool vapors that characterized normal evening mist. The air was so thick, all sources of mundane light, including the sunlight, were scattered and dissipated, coloring the entire world in a monotonous haze.

The Spøkelse. To have its abilities and powers stretch and manifest this far with such thickness, from that tree hollow, all the way to Ravendall, it must be incredibly powerful...

An earsplitting scream of a young woman filled the air, reverberating off the walls of houses, window panes, thatched roofs, and market stalls.

_...or incredibly close._

I shoved Markus away, snapped out of my funk, eliciting a shout of confusion and protest from the large man. He quickly disappeared from sight as I ran, pounding my feet against the pavement, towards the direction where I had heard the shriek. In the fog, my footsteps echoed and bounced off the empty streets of Ravendall, creating a haunting effect that lingered ominously.

A thick, ornate lamp post materialized in the mist, and I had to sway hard to the left to avoid earning a broken nose. I gave the offending thing a rude look and a hand gesture, briefly forgetting that lamp posts can't react.

Blasted pole. Blasted fog. The Sp-

I grimaced, not exactly leaping with cheer about remembering the past hour for now.

_You can handle this, you aren't a child. _

_It's bad, but you have suffered worse._

The Spøkelse must have done something and cursed Ravendall with an incredibly thick, supernatural miasma; an artificial undercurrent of suspicion and unease. I could hardly tell where I was going, and barely any light pierced the heavy clouds. I was rendered nearly blind; I couldn't even see the buildings situated on either side of the road. It's a miracle there weren't any more pedestrians out on the streets to bump into right now.

Then again, the citizens of Ravendall must have had the good sense to realize something has gone horribly wrong, and stayed inside their homes out of fear. They are much smarter than me, I suppose.

Just as this thought ran through my head, a figure burst from the thick fog, heading directly towards at me. Neither of us bothered to slow down, and we collided with each other bodily. The two of us tumbled onto the pavement, accompanied by the flapping of fabric and clinking of metal. We finally came to a stop after spinning a fair distance from the crash site.

"Ach..." I moaned, gagging as I stood back up. I had the wind knocked out of me by the impact, and the palms of my left hand stung from scraping the paved road. I coughed to get more air lungs into my lungs, and stared at the small cuts now forming ruby droplets. Then, I looked at the fallen person besides me, and mentally slapped myself. She was a young woman, a lady who appeared too shaken to realize that there was a dark patch on her clothes spreading from her elbow. She only hugged herself, the eyes of her whites clearly distinct.

"Oh, blast, I am so sorry, ma'am!" I apologized. "You're bleeding!" I lifted the lady back on her feet tenderly, making sure she wasn't hurt anywhere else.

"Ow... what had happened to this insane worl-" She turned to face me as I investigated for additional injuries, and her eyes, wide as saucers already, somehow stretched even bigger. "Prince Adam!" She hurriedly bowed, not realizing she was far too tall, and far too close to me. Her forehead hit me right in the nose, and a fresh wave of agony throbbed in the center of my face.

So much for dodging that pole.

"Your Highness!" She held her hands to her mouth in absolute horror. "I-I'm sorry..."

"That's fine, I deserved it." She was fidgeting badly, the hems of her dress flying everywhere and brushing the thick mist away slightly. Even in place, her braid swung like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

No doubt, the shouting that rang just a couple of minutes ago had set this woman off like being poked with an iron branding. I had to grab her by the shoulders firmly, so she could look directly at my eyes. "Ma'am, did you hear any sharp cries just recently?"

She pointed to herself with a long finger, her eyebrows raised deep into her forehead. "I-I' the one who yelled..."

I squeezed her shoulders hard, now reveling in my fantastic luck. "Why did you yell?"

"A-a man just collapsed..."

"Continue, continue!"

I-I tried waking him up, but he didn't respond. I-I tried feeling f-for his heartb-... his heartbeat," she blabbered, "but there was nothing! Soon enough, he was limp and ice-cold!" She clutched and shook her head. "I... I-I think he's dead!"

"WHAT!?"

The girl winced at my outburst. I coughed, and lowered my voice to a more manageable level. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout at you." I tried my best to smile confidently at her, hopefully a valiant effort. "Can you take me to him?"

The lady sniffled and turned around at the expanse of thick, soupy mist. The only things that were distinguishable now were the lights from the lamp posts strewn across the streets, and even they did little to pierce the murk. "I don't think I can..." My shoulders sagged with exhaustion and dejection. The young woman saw my crestfallen face, and straightened her back up. "But maybe I should at least try." She grasped my stinging hand, not realizing it was burning with pain, and led me as we stumbled out way through the fog.

The girl's memories must be quite remarkable, because we only hit the same dead end four times in a row. Six times, actually, if accidentally walking into an alley didn't count in canceling the streak.

_This was getting nowhere._

I glanced at my scabbard, the silvery steel trimmings that adorned it glimmering like starlight, even in midst of Ravendall's current dim illumination.

_We need to get rid of this spectral mist._

My head suddenly experienced clarity for the first time that day, and I smiled at an idea now crystallizing in my brain like an icy blast.

If this thick haze was truly the work of the Spøkelse, then... perhaps the enchantments on the Ulfberht can eradicate it! If it can work on unearthly flesh and bone, than surely it has some anti-magical properties.

I dug my heels against the pavement, and nearly fell over as the girl continued to jerk at my hand, her legs still pacing at full speed. It was only after shaking it twice when she realized that I wanted to stop. Puzzled, she let go and asked me, "What's going on? Why aren't you moving?"

I held up an index finger at her, gesturing her to wait. "Excuse me, miss..." I reached down to my side, where I stored my weapons on my holster, and drew the sword from its scabbard. Even in the heavy smog, the sword's luster shone brighter than lanterns, already clearing my visibility admirably. I can see details like the doors on houses now, and the slight outline of potted flowers decorating windows.

In the white light, the woman looked at me and the blade fearfully, confused about what I was going to do. My heart sank a little at her face and posture, which leaned to one side heavily, and away from me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she believed I was going to attack her. I held out a regal hand, doing my best to look assuring and stable.

"Stand back, ma'am."

"W-what are you going to do?"

I showed her my teeth, finally certain that something has gone right for the first time in a while. "I'm about to perform a miracle."

I pressed my forehead against the crossguard, feeling its cool silvery steel resting on my skin. I whispered a few words under my breath, an incantation that I will not write here. I thought of my people, the folks of Ravendall; they, who deserve lives without interference from magical creatures that thrive on their fear, hatred, and pain. They, who I have protected with every fiber of my being for over a year, regardless of the trials presented in one of the most dangerous corners of the Earth. They, who accepted and praised my exploits, even though they deserved more than the scrappy, one-man protection of a Prince. The people of Ravendall, who would bicker about markets and prices, cook, eat, play with their families, argue, work, sing, dance, love, strive for a better living... I will make sure they can continue to see a brighter future tomorrow without fear, for it is my duty, as Prince of Ravendall, to protect the ones I love.

The sword blazed with brilliant, white flames, physical extensions of my emboldened will and soul. I ponderously pointed its steel tip downwards, and plunged it into the ground. With only the sound of a whispering wind, the flames compacted to the very bottom in a miniature star, exploded in a spectacular light show. Compared to the relative darkness caused by the murk, the release of magic was absolutely blinding, paining my eyes with the extreme contrast. From where I struck, a pulse of magnificent white light expanded outwards, like a bleached aurora floating above the ground.

The ghostly mist from where I stood evaporated upon contact with the barrier of incoming rays, peeling back and folding itself over as if it had a mind of its own, one that cowed before the wall of purifying radiance.

I gave myself a few seconds to adjust my eyes to the returning darkness, and I looked around. Disappointingly , the clouds were still present, and still a far cry from anything mundane or ordinary. But now, it is no worse than the average nightly fog. At first, the thickness of the phantasmal ashes had given me the next best thing to blindness. Now I could at look down the street, seeing the cement lines tracing brick and cobblestone, the beautifully decorated shop signs and residences, before details faded and melted with the vast fog once more.

The woman stared at me in awe, her mouth slack-jawed. "A-are you an ange-"

"Don't. Ever. Say that." I interrupted, sheathing the Ulfberht back into place. "I'm just a young man, and the last thing we need is one waltzing around here."

She blinked, perplexed at my reaction. "Um... Okay." She turned her head around, observing the details of the now-visible streets and landmakrs, and her wide eyes sparked with recognition. "This way, then!"

People were beginning to poke their heads out of their doors, their curiosity getting the better of them. No doubt, the burst of white light and fire was too strange to ignore. They stared at me and the woman, wondering why we were in such a hurry in these cursed elements. Slowly, the silent kingdom grew less and less hushed.

It was not long before we finally found him, slouched against a cobblestone wall. His flamboyant outfit, decorated with a fur trim and small jewelry, suggest he was a man of moderate importance, a merchant perhaps, but it was too unwashed and disheveled to carry a merchant's usual bravado.

The girl and I stopped in front of the man, and I bent down on one knee. A wash of rancid odor attacked my nose, a mixture of alcohol and old sweat. I nearly choked from his powerful musk, and it took all of my will to just turn my head away and blink away tears. I patted the drunkard on the cheek, and his head lolled to one side.

This time, I actually did choke.

The man was Kjellfrid's brother.

Three weeks ago, on the day Kjellfrid disappeared, this person ran from one end of town to the other, screeching his beloved sister's name frantically, asking everyone he could reach if they had seen her. The man had spirit; until I confronted him, he never gave up his search. After more than a week, he knocked on doors nonstop, stopped incoming carts, disturbed horses, bribed heralds, anything he could to raise attention for his sister. He was being a disruption to the peace and civility of Ravendall, some people complained. The King forced me to tell the merchant to cease and desist.

I didn't know what possessed me, but I did more than that.

I remembered telling him the reality. I remembered the ways his eyes twitched, the way his mouth parted slightly in disbelief. He had broken out into a nervous, toothy grin, his voice wavering as he laughed off my words with little conviction. I remembered explaining to him the events that lead me to her body in the Lost Woods. I even showed him my hands and fingernails, which were caked with the same fresh dirt that I buried her with.

He punched me in the face. And again. And again.

I didn't stop him.

I was left with several violet bruises and cuts on my cheeks, my mouth tasting of hot iron, and a nose that smeared blood everywhere. I didn't provide any physical evidence, the brother said. I couldn't know for sure, he said. He stomped off, as stiffly as if he was made of wooden beams. His fists certainly felt like it.

Despite King Trigve's consternation, I didn't tell him anything. I was not going to have a man arrested for rightfully punishing me.

I never saw him again afterwards.

And here he was, strewn on the roadside like an abandoned toy, just another piece that fell off the board of fate.

_No. Nonono. _

_He shouldn't be dead. He has no reason to be dead._

A lot of people die without justification, Adam. It's just the way life works.

You, of all people, should know better.

I ignored the saner voice in my brain, which have been growing quieter these days, and jabbed the brother's body hard in the chest. No response. I lifted his chin up desperately and opened an eyelid, hoping I could see life within his eyes, the same glint that burned with such passion when he was still hunting for Kjellfrid.

Who was I kidding? I was the one who extinguished that flame in the first place.

I grabbed his head with both my hands and lifted him, realizing that his entire body was as limp and ice-cold as the girl had described. My thumbs, which were wrapping around his neck, detected no pulse, no heartbeat whatsoever from the man. I shoved him to the left side of my head in complete denial. I foolishly hoped that he could still display any sign, just one tiny little hint that he was still ali-

I froze in place. The smell of alcohol coming from the man was positively antiseptic, and somehow increasing in strength. Slowly, I pulled him closer to my ears, opening his mouth ever so slightly.

I could hear the faint rushing of air. Emerging from between his worn teeth, his breath tickled my cheeks at an even tempo.

"F-... He's alive! He's breathing! I-I think he's still alive!"

By now, a crowd of onlookers, including the girl that lead me here, was gathering around me and Kjellfrid's brother. Upon closer inspection, I could see even more hints of activity; his eyelids, instead of being relaxed and closed, fluttered ever so slightly, and the muscles in his face occasionally twitched into a grimace. His chest still rose and fell, filling itself in inhalation, before releasing air stained with the stench alcohol.

_You're just desperately grasping onto strings. His corpse is likely under __rigor mortis._

Shut up. I've been dealing with spooks and bodies for a while now, and I can tell if someone is still alive!

The lady perplexedly laid a hand on Kjellfrid's brother, observing his state. "He's breathing but... his heart. It's not beating at all. How could this happen? Prince Adam, is he under some sort of curse?"

I hardly heard her, instead running some theories through my head. Disease? Poison? A bad batch of ale? What could possible produce this kind of ailment?

I looked left and right at the worried and nervous spectators. "Does anyone know what happened to this man?" I shouted.

Almost each and every citizen of Ravendall, their faces in all shapes, ages, colors, and sizes, looked at me, then at each other, clearly ignorant of the brother's fate. Everybody, except for a single dark shape. That one person stood at the back end of the crowd, unmoved, and unheard of. Even with the more manageable vision impairment caused by the smog, I couldn't discern any feature about him or her. This one was shrouded in a cloak, one that fluttered in a breeze that did not exist, and nearly blended with the suspended smog...

I stormed forward, pushing surprised viewers to the side, targeting straight for this mystery person. He or she realized who I was after, and slipped away from the crowd hurriedly. "Stop!" I cried! "In the name of Ravendall, I command you to stop and reveal yourself!" The figure paid no attention to my demands, and slithered between two houses, into an alleyway.

I was prepared to follow suit, but my instincts screamed at me, tugging my heartstrings violently, pleading me not to take one more step into the darkness.

Soft whispers emerged from the inscrutable blackness, and a massive, wickedly shaped and cruel blade shot out to the side of my head, with the force of a released bowstring. The twisted, ornate metal of the polearm seemed to glow with its own grey and auburn light, barely a hair's width away from my neck. I was short of breath, and swallowed in fear. Just from a simple glance at its edge, and I could tell that the thing was almost _aware_; it desired to cut, to draw blood with the highest capacity, and there was a perfect target just barely out of its reach. I could almost feel it trying to pull my body closer, to release me from this world. This weapon, which was alive in the most unsettling way, was undoubtedly an extension of that demon.

"Hólmgeirr." I gasped.

The blade protruding from the inky darkness shivered once, and then remained still.

_you were my friend_

_you have hurt me_

I gathered all of my aplomb into my next words. There is no time for jokes or subtleties anymore. "You imprisoned and enslaved my friends within your heart. You have no right to cry to yourself like a child with a tantrum."

The blade wavered slightly, but only by a micrometer.

_I only gave these human souls what they want_

_what they need_

_what they deserve_

"That man... what had happened was your doing wasn't it?"

_of course_

"Why? Why involve him into this?"

_he was just as alone and broken as his sister-_

"Don't!" I spat, almost frothing at the mouth in hatred. "Don't you dare believe you can say a thing about Kjellfrid!" This Spøkelse was ticking me off increasingly. My cheeks were colored scarlet in my rage, and my jaws hurt from tensing so much. My hand was just aching for the opportunity to behead this monstrosity once and for all, at the risk of suffering the same fate by the spook's blade.

_you have hurt me_

_you attacked me first_

_you nearly erased me_

"A great shame that I failed," I muttered.

_it is only fair that I do the same_

That's it. I was having none of this Spøkelse's garbage. I jutted my chin forward in resolution, and waved a hand behind me, gesturing at the mass of spectral smog encompassing Ravendall. "Then why must you do this?" I proclaimed, glared at it with absolute loathing. "Why must you involve my kingdom in this, you great sniveling louse? Why must you hurt them, instead of killing me right now?"

_I cannot_

_I have to break you first_

_humans detest loneliness after all_

The heat of my anger dissipated immediately, replaced by the intense chill that only dread and overbearing gloom can bring. I predicted the Spøkelse's words before his discordant voice carried them out for real.

_I will just have to take your kingdom away from you_

"No!"

_when will you finally give in_

_will it be when you have seen your hard work crumble to the ground_

_will it be when you can no longer share a drink_

_will it be when children no longer play and cheer by your side_

_will it be when you are abandoned by all_

_will it be when no one will ever remain to love you_

"Please, just end this farce! Just take my life, at least leave Ravendall alone! They don't deserve any of this!"

_I understand your wish_

_but your heart still desires the opposite_

_you still have hope_

I gaped, taken aback by his choice of words. "Wh-what?"

_hope is deadly_

_poisonous_

_abhorrent_

_treacherous_

_it entrances with sweet promises_

_raise you to greater heights_

_only to drop you without a care to the dangerous depths below_

_when the world inevitably yanks you back down_

_your hope is what keeps you alive_

The iron auburn blade descended, and my vision flashed white with pain. With a simple flourish, the Spøkelse had cut a shallow slit in the side of my neck, barely nicking a layer of my skin. I covered it with a hand, wheezing and wincing in pain. I fell to the pavement, suddenly weak in the knees. I no longer had the strength to stand, or even lift my head up to glare. Rather than just leave an open wound that stung, the spot where the dark blade struck emanated a mind-numbing sensation that seeped into my muscles and heart, oozing like a chill venom that threatened to stop the flow of my blood.

_so I ask you one question_

_before I leave you and your repugnant hope here to rot_

The blackness obscuring the alley paled, now developing into a mass of grey smoke that whirled in a tornado of raging wind and ash. The dusty clouds coalesced into an apparition, a vague silhouette of a towering man that possessed two orbs for eyes. It leaned forward, so close that I could see it without even lifting my eyes. The orbs flashed a deadly color, a mixture of stormy iron and rust. Just from being in its mere proximity made me feel threatened to throw up.

_how much will you have to lose_

_until hope finally abandons you to the inescapable depths below_

I closed my eyes in what I believed was defeat, and looked back up at Hólmgeirr the demon.

The Spøkelse vanished. It had completely disappeared without a trace, as if it was nothing but a simple night terror to laugh away. The alley was no longer suspiciously pitch-black, but a simple passage again, a harmless space between two houses, and nothing more. The only menacing quality that was left behind was a heavy, suffocating silence.

Something in the distance fell with a dull thud. A piercing scream resonated through the haunted streets of Ravendall. The scene was too far, and too obscured by the ghostly ash clouds to be seen. And yet, I knew what just happened.

The Spøkelse is now targeting people, all because I was too afraid to stay in the forest and finish the fight.

Another soft thud, and a fresh wave of screams.

...I led it here.

I did this.

* * *

**And _that_ is why I had to leave Olaf out of the picture.**

**Once again, this chapter, giggling evilly no doubt, had to split and run off to the corners of the world. This chapter is officially the second of the three pieces that I wanted, and it's kind of ticking me off. I'm not even one-third done with the story yet! At this rate, I will end up writing...**

**erm...**

**Let's take a look. "tip-tappity-tap" "flipping of papers"**

**...At least 24 chapters. Huh. Not too bad, actually. You'll never know, though. Prepare yourself, FrozenRose1.**

**If you too would like to be a beta-reader for _Have Courage,_ _Elsa_, just gimme a shout, a message, or something. **

**The next chapter shouldn't be as long, unless if it decided to be a jerk and conduct asexual reproduction once more, forcing me to finish Adam's arc two weeks from now. Stupid chapter.**

**So anyway, follow, fave, and/or review.**** Each comment makes me giddy, and each email alert is like a hit that sends me to the land of purple dragons. Except, the dragons aren't really purple, and neither do they look like dragons. More like giant flying waffles, really. Smothered in chocolate. The bat-like wings could be a bit of a turn-off, though.**

**...Wait, what?**

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen_!**


	9. Ch 9: The Snowman and the Servant

**Hooray for over 9800 hits!**

**Update: Broken 10k! Thank you all for taking your time!**

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**Now, this is what one would call a "filler" chapter. It is related to the story (probably more than I realize), but as of now does not serve to move the plot.**

**In effect, it is an exploration of characters, in a different situation than the author's original intent.**

**The events of this one-shot takes place shortly after Chapter 7, when Olaf scurried off to grab some hot cocoa for his friends.**

**Now, why did I make this "filler" chapter? As I have explained to my beta-reader, FrozenRose1, I needed a break from writing.**

**So I wrote some more instead.**

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**Additional Note: For those of you guys who have already read this chapter as a separate story, sorry for the false alarm... ****I'll make it up to you, I promise.**

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Chapter 9

The Snowman and the Servant

* * *

Tonight was probably one of Gerda's strangest and most surreal experiences, as servant to the Royal Family.

Granted, she was not new to such curious happenings; servitude to the Arendelle Monarchy had always been mired in intriguing adventures, and Gerda herself came from a long line of loyal attendants, dating back as far as her Great-Great Uncle Alfred. A tradition was born from that job; beginning with Alfred's succeeding son, at least one member from each generation of Gerda's family would be guaranteed to provide aid and advice to the highest order of the state.

A white snowman skipped besides her, breaking the attendant's train of thought. "_That's_ why you'd rather live in this castle without a normal life?" he asked incredulously. "For a maid, you're pretty weird." Gerda could only sigh at Olaf's innocently blunt remark.

Admittedly, aspiring to work in the Palace doesn't sound too impressive at first; it certainly didn't when Gerda's mother explained the tradition to her then-preteen daughter. A servant, Royal or not, is still a servant, and is expected to maintain the massive castle in top form at one's own expense, as well as keep the Royal Family stable in mentality and health.

Such work was both back-breaking and nerve-wracking, and took its toll on Gerda. "See, uh... see this?" She motioned her hands around her sturdy and plump figure, a little embarrassed from displaying herself. "I have no time to worry about my appearance besides a formal attire. I can't even tighten my body shape, because the hard labor has given me muscles that will never fit into a corset, even after a thousand years, after I am no longer capable of breathing. And look at this." She lifted her head kerchief slightly to reveal a few grey strands hidden among the brown. "Soon enough, I guarantee my head will become whiter than Queen Elsa's!"

"I personally think you look wonderful, Gerda. But... if you don't like the way you look, why not choose another job?"

"I never said I was unhappy with the way I look, and... Well, I'm too old and too busy to ever find another life, I guess."

Gerda was not grieving, however; in fact, she actually counted her blessings. The maid tried her best to explain to Olaf the generosity of the Kings and Queens of Arendelle, whose portraits adorned a section of the Palace halls they were now walking through. As a Royal Attendant of Arendelle, Gerda told Olaf she had access to a permanent and lavish bedroom inside the grand Palace, a large payroll, good food, and free invitations to royal gatherings.

"Well..." the older woman shrugged. "Technically it's free; someone has to be there to clean up the inevitable and horrendous mess of cake and lutefisk after all, but a party is still a party."

"But... why couldn't you choose another job earlier?"

"For a talking snowman, you ask too many questions." Gerda tried to sound polite; she was not actively persuading Olaf to change the subject of this conversation, but it would relieve her to no end if he did.

"Oh..." The snowman, seemingly understanding, lowered his eyes, and considered his next choice of words. "So then... why _did__n't _you choose another job earlier?"

_He didn't change the topic at all. _Gerda resisted the urge to tap her head against the wall and roll her eyes in exasperation. "You're no better than Princess Anna, always wanting to know the full story despite what others think." she huffed.

Although, for someone dragged out of bed at two hours after midnight, Gerda was in a surprisingly good humor. Perhaps because the snowman had this kind of effect around people, one of love and trust. He managed to capture quite a few hearts in the kingdom just being upbeat by offering hugs to random people. For example, Olaf unwittingly entered a tavern once; the little guy lifted some of the most depressed souls from their slouches and brooding moods, and even transformed that bar into a song and dance party. The rows of burly workers and ice harvesters dancing the can-can while belting sopranos became a popular anecdote. Gerda did not know how that was possible, but Olaf made it work.

The attendant looked up at ceiling thoughtfully, her thoughts tracing back to times long past. "I... um." Gerda's cheeks felt warm, as she was not used to revealing something this inimate to anyone, even if that person was a living, talking snowman. "I... I stayed for the two girls. For Anna and Elsa."

According to Gerda, the most important benefit of serving the Royalty of Arendelle was probably the rarest gift of all; a loving second family. Elsa and Anna's late parents, King Eirik and Queen Johanna of Arendelle, were barely any older than their newly hired servant at the time, but they had been especially gracious, sharing their blessed children with the entire castle staff. They were the closest thing Gerda had for in-laws. For their kids, the maid doted and practically raised the two sisters over the years, seeing them as the daughters she never could have hoped to bear.

When her precious second family fractured apart, with barely a glimmer of hope for repair, Gerda's heart was pierced with an icicle of doubt, one that pushed deeper each time she saw the dejected two girls grow further apart with every passing year.

When Queen Elsa ran away from her kingdom, her worst fears realized, Gerda had wept herself to sleep for two nights on end.

When the two Royal Sisters returned victoriously from the harbor, wrapping each other tightly with their arms as if thirteen long, dark, painful years had never occurred between them, Gerda wept for one night more.

So, when she had heard an obnoxious rapping on her bedroom door five minutes ago, the veteran maid's brief panic attack was perfectly justified.

* * *

Gerda had been enjoying a good rest at the time, with a dream involving an exciting adventure high up in the mountains, in a hot-air balloon that sailed to the farthest reaches of the known Earth. She was just about to use her fortified body to her advantage against roving sky pirates, but the incessant knocking yanked her into reality. Blearily, she stretched herself out of a yawn, and noted that the clock in her room said the time was well after two in the morning. The woman tilted her head at the hour hand in confusion. To awake to something this late must mean...

She held a hand to her mouth, her heartbeat suddenly doubling in pace. _Oh no, can it be an emergency!?_

Anything could have happened; thieves, a roaring fire, plague, an attack on the sisters, an invading kingdom, even marauding pirates!

The mental images brought upon by this thought only sent a new wave of fresh terror to the older maid. Hurriedly, she hopped out of bed and threw her sheets aside, not even bothering to change from her sleeping gown. She swung the door wide open, expecting someone like either Kai or Queen Elsa to be standing in front of her, ready to present the terrible news.

All she saw was the crocus-patterned wallpaper on the opposite side of the hallway. Gerda turned her head cautiously to the left side, seeing no one there.

She repeated the same motion, but this time to the right.

Again, her eyes did not come across anyone. She sighed, her eyelids sagging and shoulders in both relief and tiredness. "Either I'm hallucinating, or Princess Anna must have decided to play a prank on me," she muttered.

"Um, I don't think I see Princess Anna anywhere, but I am down here!"

Gerda ears twitched at the whimsical-sounding voice, and a single snowflake, shining like a lone star in the night, brushed against her nose, dancing as it flew further up into the air. Then another. And another. She slowly looked down, and identified the surprise source of winter.

She knew Olaf, Elsa's creation and friend from the North Mountain, for three weeks now, but it hardly got any easier for the older woman whenever he showed up. He has this odd talent of popping into a conversation unnoticed, like a ghost, until the very last minute. Who knows how many times had he sent people reeling with surprise simply by introducing himself? In fact, giving his victims a terrific shock seemed to amuse him, which does not help matters at all.

Gerda just barely refrained from kicking his head off for the thirteenth time since Queen Elsa's return, and patted herself lightly on the bosom to relax her overactive heart.

"Hiya Gerda!" The snowman chirped, raising his stick arms wide. The Head Servant was at a loss for words, and ten seconds passed by in awkward silence.

"Hello... Olaf." Gerda waved shyly him, and focused her view on both sides of the hall once more. She didn't see anyone attending the little creature. In normal circumstances, at least one of his friends should be hovering around.

While suppressing an incoming yawn, she asked, "Why did you come to wake me at this hour?"

"Oh! Um..." The snowman looked pensive, furrowing his brow. He crossed his stick limbs, rubbing his chin with one hand, and bowed his head to one side until it was almost parallel to the carpet floor. "Hm..."

And then the angling of his snowy cranium dipped even deeper...

"No no! Careful-" Gerda began, raising her hands out in front of her, in a futile attempt to catch him.

Alas, it was too late. The snowman's head came off from his body, his face seemingly moving in slow-motion. In less than a second, the white creature will make impact with the hard floor, splitting apart like an overripe fruit. What was once alive will be rendered to nothing but a pile of snow, one that will disappear into the carpeting rapidly, leaving just a single brightly orange carrot behind. The Queen and Princess will undoubtedly weep at the loss of their friend, with all of the blame lying directly at their veteran attendant's feet. They may bring all of their men and horses, but Olaf, Her Majesty's special and prized creation, cannot be fixed, and will cease to exist. Gerda shut her eyes and winced for the inevitable destruction...

...and Olaf's head hit the floor with a noncommittal thud.

The snowman, still very much alive, made no acknowledgement that his neck (space?) was detached; his headless body still rubbing at his absent chin.

Undaunted by the surprise separation, Olaf's prone face broke into gleeful grin. "Oh, oh! I know!" He lowered his voice, doing his best impression of a conspirator. Well, one with a head still attached, at least. "Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, and Helga are doing something reeaallly special and reeaallly important right now!" The head rolled forward quickly, then backwards, a lopsided version of Olaf trying to shift his vision left and right. "It's a secret though! I don't think I should tell you!"

"'Helga'?"

"Oh! Um... he's someone we trust!"

The headless body uncrossed its arms, and patted itself in the back, evidently a reward for its display of subtlety and tact.

Secrets, Gerda can handle. The Royal Castle was littered with them, and only one was finally lifted after the Eternal Winter. What more can a new addition do?

_Still though, who on Earth would name their son 'Helga'?_

"Really?" Gerda said, using her years of discipline to fight back yet another yawn. "So why did you call me out of my bedroom?"

The snowman pulled his face into a sad, genuine frown, a rare expression for someone so happy-go-lucky. "I don't really know where the kitchen is." he explained. "I told everyone I was going to get them warm milk and cocoa, but I have not a single clue where to find them!" Olaf's body groped for its fallen head, lifting and replacing it with ease. He danced a small jig to present his newly repaired self. "So, I'm asking you! You are the head waitress, right?"

"Maid," corrected Gerda.

_Figures_, the servant thought to herself. While Olaf had lived in the Arendelle Palace for three weeks now, his personalized winter atmosphere had its limits. Among other places a snowman ought not to be standing inside, including, say... a castle, the kitchen room would probably be listed as one of the worst. How could a snowman survive in a place filled with hot food, open flames, and rambunctious, rude, hustling cooks?

But... if this little snowman is performing a deed for the Royal Sisters, at least Gerda, the Royal Family's most trusted maid for two generations, should fulfill her duty. She retreated back inside her bedroom to grab her head kerchief, telling the snowman to wait for her.

As she was tying a knot around her round cheeks and chin, she glanced at the undone bed standing forlorn in the moonlight. Her posture drooped in irritation at the mere sight of the chaos; a single wrinkle, a shallow valley that spanned across the mattress.

With a sigh, she violently yanked all of her blankets from the cot, vigilantly remaking and stretching each sheet until they were flat as wooden boards once more.

She nodded approvingly at her work, and gestured at the snowman. "Come," Gerda said, "I'll take you there."

* * *

The Royal Kitchen of Arendelle was the pride of the Palace, if Gerda could say so herself. Upon entering the grand doors, one could see the tiled walls that were hung with well-polished pots and pans that glowed and sparkled. Even in the relative darkness of the night, the kitchen was illuminated by metallic reflections alone.

In an effort to impress the snow-newcomer, Gerda cleared her throat, and spoke in her passionate tour-guide voice. "Thanks to fastidious cleaning and management, these kitchen wares have seen usage for years and years, and still remained as polished as the officially assigned weaponry of Corona."

She raised a hand at the wooden cabinets that spanned for an entire portion of the kitchen, adorned with brass handles. "In these drawers and shelves, thousands of silverware and plates are stacked and arranged, in enough numbers to suit the largest of parties, and beautifully crafted and decorated with floral designs to impress the haughtiest of guests."

The maid dragged the snowman, who was following her paces excitedly, to yet another part of the kitchen, a space occupied by sturdy and scarred tables. "Here is where half a dozen of chefs prepare meals, supplied with the finest tools and exotic spices."

Olaf pulled away from the attendant, who was now beaming with pride for the Royal Palace. "Hey Gerda, what's this thing?" The snowman inquiringly pointed at a bent, metal pipe fixed to a wall, situated above a relatively large porcelain tub.

"That would be another kitchen gem, the tap water system. It was built with a guarantee for fresh and sterile water for all days of the year."

What Gerda didn't say was that it was quite the trouble for Elsa's mother, Johanna, to set it up; she had to plan and make arrangements with contractors for the plumbing and space, all the while persuading her husband that a safe and local drinking source was more important than a centuries-old piece of wall.

The snowman waddled to the very center of the kitchen, now positively gaping in amazement as he faced what was probably the two Crown Jewels of the establishment.

Gerda smiled at the little creature, who's infectious enthusiasm was stirring and igniting the zeal within her. Such sensation was almost nostalgic; the maid could recall a time when she took two little children, to this very same room, giving them the same tour.

"Ah... you have a good eye, Olaf." She puffed her chest up in pride, sticking an arm out to the massive structure located at the center of a wall. "This a massive, state-of-the-art stove with an oven attached, both practical and artistic in design; its petal motifs and polished sections of wood and stone belie their effectiveness for efficient and varied cooking!

"And this," she frenziedly announced, pointing at a reinforced metal door. "This is the newest addition to the palace, enchanted with the powers of winter to remain in a permanent state of frost. It is a giant storeroom, filled to the brim with hundreds of ingredients from all corners of the world, each catalogued by Queen Elsa herself!"

Gerda, now completely lost in her own world, raised her hands in adulation. "No one can find a finer kitchen to prepare food in, not even in the very Country of Cuisine, France!"

The snowman, slightly taken aback, whistled long and low. Gerda could not, for her life, figure out how that was even possible.

"Um... " He sounded wary, almost frightened, at this suddenly unrestrained woman standing before him. "...That's very nice and all, including the over-sized icebox, but I was just admiring how high the ceiling seems to go up..."

"...Icebox?" In a flash of a second, the burning spirit and enthusiasm within Gerda died out. "...Ceiling?" Her entire plump figure drooped low, completely deflated. She spun a little melodramatically, and leaned a head against a tile wall, humiliated and sullen over the sudden dissonance between servant and snowman. "You got all excited over a ceiling..."

This was only the second time someone would rather pay attention to something so trivial, without heeding to the amazing wonders standing right in front of them.

The first person to do so became, of all people, Queen Elsa.

Oh, who was Gerda kidding anyway? She was trying to impress a _snowman_, for crying out loud.

The attendant could only shake her head in disbelief at herself, as she straightened up her back, and took a tinderbox from one of the cabinets. She struck a small fire in the stove, allowing the wood fuel inside to burn, slowly. "Olaf," the servant said, pulling her sleeves back in preparation. "Would you be kind and help me fetch the milk from the storage? They're all labeled."

The little snowman saluted, burying a stick hand deep into his brow unintentionally. It took him a couple of tugs with his other hand to pull it back out. "Absolutely, ma'am!"

Gerda walked over to a shelf, and plucked from within a tin of cocoa; unlike the well-hidden stash of Arendelle's finest chocolate candies, the spice was permitted to be kept in plain sight. Cocoa powder is actually very bitter, so there was no need to hide its location from two potential sneaks; they learned what was in the metal boxes the hard way just a week ago. Gerda gave the fine brown powder a gentle sniff. A powerful but warm, rich aroma filled her nose, until she could almost taste the heavenly smell, and she sighed with pleasure. She pulled out a giant sack of sugar, using her strong arms to heave it out, and took a cast-iron pot hanging from a peg, setting it onto the increasingly hot stove.

Somebody tapped her on the leg, and she reached downwards to receive a white jug from Olaf. She nodded at the snowman in approval, while pouring the contents into the warm pot. The resultant hiss from contact between the liquid and hot metal sent Olaf giggling, as he watched the little stove fire from a safe distance.

"Watching the firelight all night long...  
warming up my nose as I'm singin' a song...  
Da babbity doo-whop,  
shoobity-doo-doo,  
Beebop! Boop-a dee-whop!"

Gerda _would_ like to ask exactly what on Earth sort of gibberish Olaf was chanting in; for all she knows, it could be some sort of demonic witchcraft or a curse casted behind her back.

Then again, he was bizarre enough without being made of snow. The maid held her tongue and refrained from raising more oddities than her graying head could manage.

"Anything else?" Olaf piped.

Gerda's memories rewinded back a few hours, when she saw the number of giant boxes poor Captain Arvid and Kai had to lug into the kitchen. The two men had panted and sweated as they desperately prevented each package from falling over and spoiling the contents inside, sometimes sticking their feet out to catch an errant defector.

"I think a midnight snack would serve them well. Goodness knows the Royal Family should put on a bit of weight, they look so thin and frail at times!"

Olaf lifted his head in delight. "Oh, I've never thought of that! That's a wonderful, fantastic idea!"

"Why don't you check the ice room? Just... leave the door open, so I can tell you! I'm sure the boys have placed it on that left shelf right next to the door- yes, there we go! Now, don't you drop it!"

Olaf waddled back to Gerda with a box, struggling valiantly to make sure it didn't fall over.

"Just put it on the table over there, I'll cut it later." She grinned at the small creature, and hugged it appreciatively. "You have been an incredible help, dear."

The snowman, glowing with happiness and pride, walked out of sight, but his childish voice remained as present as ever. "What a nice cake," he commented, "saying "Congratulations For the New Baby" and all. It doesn't look like it want warm hugs too badly like you and I do, though."

Gerda fought back a titter at the subject title, and the recent memory associated with it.

_ "I didn't know what possessed the Queen today, but she started buying out the entire bakery, regardless of what they said on them! You should have seen the look on the shopkeeper's face, I thought he was going to collapse in astonishment!" the Royal Guard Captain chuckled._

_"...That explains the "Get Better Soon" title on a few of them." Gerda replied. "I thought somebody recently came down with a malady."_

_"Let me tell you, hauling all of the parcels here has been absolute murder on my arms! I don't know if I can even swing a sword properly anymore, Gerda."_

_"Didn't she offer to help and carry some of them, Captain?" _

_"Yes, but a Queen shouldn't-" the Captain protested. _

_"Then you only have your stubbornness to blame."_

_"_Hey," Olaf shouted from the sidelines, once again butting into Gerda's flashback, "is it true that you were there when Elsa and Anna were born? Did you get to hold them as a baby?"

"Why yes, little one..." The words rolled pleasantly and nostalgically in Gerda's tongue, an affectionate term she had not spoken in years. "I was right next to the midwife both times, wiping Queen Johanna's sweat away while she was giving birth." Gerda raised her hands and held them slightly apart, so that they were just barely the length of her feet. "They were only this big when they were first introduced into the world..."

It's been twenty-one years ago, but Gerda could still recall those days as clearly as she could see the back of her hand. Elsa and Anna, once small enough to fit into large shoes, tiny and defenseless enough that they required protection, and to be cooed at every given opportunity, developed at a blinding pace. In just a few years, the two best friends were strong enough to cause a ruckus in the castle, knocking over set pieces of armor and breaking furniture as they played in enchanted snow, often with the servants.

Then, their childhood was immediately snuffed out thirteen years ago, before Elsa and Anna could even reach adolescence.

In the blink of an eye, before anyone, especially themselves, could fully appreciate their time as young children, the Princesses turned into women, stunning and strong, and just a little sad.

As she left her station to investigate the baked goods, a glistening chocolate cake as plump and round as Gerda was wide, she fought back a couple of tears, and sniffled. "Hard to believe that they would grow up so fast..."

The snowman inhaled loudly with excitement. Gerda heard the scraping of a stool, and his voice still trailed from somewhere. "Then, did Elsa still had her winter powers?"

"Oh my, yes!" Gerda laughed, still teary-eyed. "It was quite a shock when she fir-"

"But how did you know it was her?" Olaf interrupted. "And when you found out, how did you know Anna couldn't do the magic?"

"Olaf, I-"

"How were you able to deal with it?" the snowman yammered on. "Did Elsa and Anna make lots and lots of snowmen before me? Did Elsa ever play pranks? Oh, I just know she would have. I've met plenty of kids, even the shy and quiet ones like Elsa, who would still love a good prank!" He tilted his head in curiosity. "Mostly, they did it on me, kicking my head off and tossing it around while Anna tried to stop them... You know, I don't think children make very good listeners. And then-"

"Slow down there, dear!" Gerda protested. "You can be too much like Princess Anna sometimes! You should at least know when to breathe!"

"Great!... But, exactly how do I breathe-"

"splash"

Gerda whipped her head around, and saw a little figure standing in front of the boiling pot of milk. "Little one!" she cried. She rushed through the tiled floor, knocking over a couple of stools in the process, and snatched Olaf away before he could melt any faster from the fire. Her heart was pumping in overtime, hammering against her ears as the adrenaline rush threatened to knock her out. "What were you doing!? You could have gotten yourself burnt or killed!"

"Ah can' really 'heel nah 'hace." The snowman murmured. He slowly pointed at the steaming pot above the stove fire.

Gerda peeked into the pot of boiling milk, and didn't know whether to choke back in horror or grim amusement. A lump of snow floated on top like an island, nearly invisible against the white liquid, that quickly dissolved until it disappeared. Gerda looked back at the snowman, and noticed that a certain part of his face was missing.

"I' 'ust sthnelled 'tho good..." Olaf mumbled dejectedly.

The snowman had evidently been trying to get a whiff of the pleasant scent of warm milk, which is perfectly acceptable, if he wasn't made of a material that melted so easily. He was also allured by the gentle heat, not realizing that the fire and steam was indeed hot enough to melt him, until _plop,_ he lost half his face.

Upon closer inspection of Olaf's face, the missing pile of snow, now evenly mixed in the boiling milk, was... erm.

Well, it was Olaf's lower jaw.

Because his bottom lip is now gone, Olaf found it incredibly difficult to speak, even lamely. His new appearance gave him a peculiar look; it was as if someone decided to build a small snowman, but eschewed the traditional head in a fit of artistic madness, opting to instead stick a crudely sculpted bird on top, with a bucktooth attached to the end of the beak for good measure.

Gerda scratched the back of her neck, baffled by the event that had just occurred. "I don't really know how to fix snow sculptures," she said, perhaps a bit ruefully. True, she does serve a Lady of Ice and Snow, but it had never occurred for years to the maid to practice in first-aid for snowmen.

So, instead of trying to fix Olaf, and inevitably worsen the situation with more chaos, Gerda remained where her training lied, her safe zone; she brought her attention to the cake, then to the stove. The attendant grabbed a spoon to dip into the steaming liquid, and tasted it to test the milk's temperature. "Olaf," she said gently, seeing no need to admonish his behavior. "Why don't you go grab some more sugar from the bag? We'll find Queen Elsa after we're done, and have you fixed right back up."

The oblong, bucktoothed bird-head cheered and skipped away. "O'hay!"

Gerda smiled at Olaf's unabashed optimism, and added some of the cocoa powder to the pot. She's not going to waste some perfectly good milk, after all.

_Now..._ she wondered. _Is it better to say nothing, or tell the Royal Family Olaf's mouth had been in there?_

* * *

**This chapter is also its own story, as I had two people, FrozenRose1 included, suggest that I separate my drabbles. Wish granted! Kinda...**

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**Oddly enough, this was supposed to be just one section for the newest _Have Courage, Elsa _chapter, dedicated to Olaf's little misadventure as a bit of comic relief**** because...**

**Look, let's just say Chapter 10 is gonna get pretty dark. No gore, no gore! I think it's within Disney Animated Canon limits. It's just... _heavy._ Especially for me.**

**The recent onslaught of my followed story updates were pretty depressing in tone as well, which did little to improve my mood.**

**Instead, I tried lightening myself up by purposefully expanding that brief scene between Olaf and Gerda, before I have to dive back into the meat and potatoes. **

**Gerda was actually supposed to be Kai, but I realized the poor gal did not get a lot of mentions in other fanfics. She's practically a blank canvas just waiting to be painted on. So, I experimented, but got slightly carried away. **

**I'm sorry, but the _actual _chapter will probably come much, much later. I can guarantee that the thing will be 12k+ words, at least. **

**Got a long road ahead of me.**

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen._**


	10. Ch 10: It's Just You and Me

**A lot of people may object, but I personally think Thursday is a lovely day. Thursday is realizing the weekend is finally within sight. Thursday is when I'm no longer concerned about trombone lessons. It's the one day without Jazz rehearsals. It's a day when the rest of my followed manga finally upload their latest chapters. It's also when the new _Kill La Kill_ episode is released, which I await with both excitement and terror.**

* * *

**After seeing the episode: "broken sobs" "inelegant blubbering"**

* * *

**Well, today would have been an exception, because I have a big project due. Oh well, I'll leave that for the 8:00 a.m. version of me to worry about. **

**Yep, this is still a good day, because I have finally updated a proper chapter after more than a week and a half!**

**Also, putting up a chapter preview last Saturday worked pretty well in my opinion. It might become a trend of mine, and I hope you readers are tolerant of such behavior. If you aren't, just review your opinion or message me. **

**Anyway, thank you all for bearing with me, and taking your time to read _Have Courage, Elsa_, both beautiful followers and casual readers!**

* * *

**In _Frozen-_related news, yesterday was the day _Frozen _was released on iTunes!**

**Also, the film is just less than $26-million away from a billion in the box office! You're almost there, you beautiful maniac!**

**Standard Protocol: All rights to the characters and settings of this fanwork is owned by Disney, except for the increasingly large number of my OCs.  
**

**Additional Standard Protocol: Special thanks goes to FrozenRose1 for being my beta-reader. She's been doing quite the job as my Second Opinion. **

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Chapter 10

It's Just You and Me

* * *

Adam the Adventurer's journal stunned its readers with its last records. It wasn't hard to see why; the seemingly innocuous section the old book was an open door, leading to a dangerous world that shared reality with the mundane, just out of sight, and out of most minds. The dark night that shrouded Arendelle immediately became just a bit more oppressive, a little more threatening, for who knows what kind of eldritch secrets and creatures sheltered themselves beneath the moon and stars, in this kingdom, at this very moment?

Even worse was the revelation of the enemy's true capabilities. Elsa and Anna had always remembered their Father telling them the tales of Prince Adam, but never in these startling details. It made sense, given that they were merely children at the time, but that did little to ease the surprise.

The Spøkelse came as even more a shock. Sure, they remembered that this ancient spirit, one that has existed for more than three hundred years, had been attacking people indiscriminately, and was eventually left stranded in the Lost Woods, where it belonged.

What King Eirik never saw fit to tell the Royal Sisters, however, was that the monster plagued its victims with vicious and horrid memories, hammering those venomous thoughts into their heads until it left nothing but empty husks and begging, broken messes in its wake.

Helge and Kristoff, on the other hand, were hardly perturbed by the information, and displayed near-stoic expressions, looking remarkably like statues. Accepting the journal's contents came more easily to them; having lived in troll territory before, beyond the thin borders that separates mystical creatures and humanity, both mountain man and troll had their fair share of scrapes with things that go bump in the night.

Although, a closer look at Helge's stone face will reveal slightly narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. The little troll, one of Grand Pabbie's protégés, and a dabbler of memory magic himself, was severely insulted by the Spøkelse's abuse of power. To have his grandfather's signature field desecrated into something so perverse and destructive...

Such a reaction was not natural for trolls, who were raised with love and joy at the center of their focus.

Anna was the one to finally voice her thoughts. "I don't get it..." The princess crossed her arms, and leaned back against her chair, frowning in concentration. She tried looking bold, and even thought about raising her feet on the table, if Elsa had not been there.

"Hm?" inquired Helge. He faced the young redhead, his severe features reverting back into his usual troll expressions.

"Why doesn't this Spolkese-

"Spøkelse, Anna." Elsa corrected.

"Spolkese, Spøkelse, bleagh. Why doesn't just... well, you know..." Anna couldn't really bring herself to say the next few words. Instead, she raised a hand underneath her chin, index finger outstretched, and swiped sideways, imitating a cut across the throat.

"Anna..." Kristoff whispered, his eyes hardening. "Ghosts cannot directly kill."

Anna blinked at the mountain man. "Oh, oh! Well, that's good..."

Kristoff did not change from his dark expression at all, and Anna knew that she had hit a faux pas. The Princess raised her shoulders and cringed, internally cursing her running mouth. "...kinda. I guess?" she amended, brushing a hair past her ear nervously. "A-Adam wrote that the lady's brother was still alive and breathing!... Right?"

Helge knelt on the table, and laid a stone hand tentatively on Anna's shoulder. "Your Highness. If a victim does not perish first, he or she will indeed live." The troll leaned even closer, so they were seeing eye-to-eye. "...But what is a person without a soul?"

Anna blinked at Helge's severe gaze, and said nothing.

Helge stood back up, and proceeded by saying, "The Spøkelse's victims will continue to survive, but they will have no means of remaining so for long. The empty body will wither away, as one would without nourishment." His voice grew harsher as he flicked the old tome with his fingers. "There was still a body count. A battle between spirits and others of supernatural relations is a clash of wills," the troll reminded, repeating Adam's written words. "You lose everything the moment you no longer have any resolve to continue fighting..."

Helge sat back on the table with a dull clunk, rubbing his temple with stubby fingers. "Hm... In this context, the likely Spøkelse bullies its victims with memories of pain, until they no longer wish to fight back. That way, they would give the demon permission to absorb their souls. It will grow in strength as more souls are subjugated to its power."

Anna opened her mouth, but no sound escaped her lips. She had to try again to be more successful. "But that means..."

"You have to make the decision to give up yourself." Elsa said quietly, finishing her sister's sentence.

A slight breeze, blown in from an indeterminable origin, was the only sound that occupied the following silence.

"...Elsa," a sense of urgency began to creep in Anna's voice. "It's starting to freeze."

The Queen flicked her view upwards, and sucked in a breath in surprise. She saw everyone's breaths, thin wisps of clouds that floated from their lips, refract in the silver moonlight coming through the windows. Pages and papers rustled and flapped like miniature flags, as a chill wind was beginning to pick up within the library. Snowflakes began to fall, produced by magic bleeding from its unnerved source. Ice spilled from Elsa's body, small crystalline shards that clinked and tinkled, clinging to the chair she sat on, and spreading out onto the carpet.

Elsa's arms crossed themselves into a solitary hug, and she shut her eyelids in a futile attempt to isolate and calm her mind.

The last thing Elsa realized hit her too close to home.

_What would it be like to be forfeit yourself to fate, because it was just too much work to fight anymore?_

_Who are you trying to deceive?_

_You already have, once._

"Elsa!"

The Queen snapped her eyes open, and was nearly blinded by white; a full-scale blizzard was now swirling within the room. She looked around desperately, darting her view everywhere, completely lost, confused, and scared.

The only truth she was aware of was that she feared for her life now. The Queen could just barely see the abandoned ships behind the snow, stranded on the desolate fjord. They tilted and turned with deep moans, the frozen sea an entire graveyard of skeletal beasts. Elsa would have been amongst them, had she not escaped from her cell room.

An echo of breaking ice was heard overhead, somewhere in the distance, cracking like a thousand whips repeatedly. The sound was quickly drowned in the howling wind, which screamed deafeningly at Elsa's ears with unrestrained fury.

She wanted to run further, away from the executioner's sword that was seeking for her blood, but the Queen was stuck to a chair, somehow. It served as her chain, her constraint, one that bound her tighter than those horrid iron shackles have ever done. She breathed rapidly, and clutched at her chest in pain. Something within Elsa swelled and constricted her lungs, and the Queen withdrew her arms even tighter together to push it back inside. The storm was getting worse, the pressure was building, she couldn't hold it back anymore-

And then, out of the raging blasts of wind, someone's lithe fingers shot forward and grabbed Elsa sturdily by the hand.

Elsa recoiled as fiery lightning bolted its way up her arm, and jolted her heart and brain. Her eyes followed the lady's hand to her freckled face, and spotted the clear, startlingly blue eyes of Anna, full of strength and resolve. Elsa hyperventilated, terrified that she was going to hurt her little sister, to freeze her heart again, and she was in half a mind to tear herself away and flee as far as her feet can take her.

_Love thaws..._

That's right... love. That was what she needed. Not to run away and reject the world for everyone's safety, but to realize she wasn't alone.

Bit by bit, reality started to piece itself together again. There were no barren ships to be seen, no shattering of sea ice. There was no one out to execute her, to cut her down for her unforgivable sins. The chair was no longer a restraint, but just as it was always intended to be; a simple wooden chair, to be sat upon in a quiet library.

Elsa inhaled slowly and fully, and exhaled at the same speed. The pressure that had been building up within her weakened and died down, like opening the lid slightly on a whistling teapot.

Gradually, she regained her composure, assisted by the warm hand that tingled with vibrant life in her hand. The wind ceased its howling, causing the snow to settle gently and harmlessly onto the carpet floor. Elsa was no longer on the frozen fjord; she was among rows of bookshelves, some furniture, and three visible figures of varying sizes, all coated in white snow.

Elsa brought a hand to her mouth in horror. "Please, forgive me!"

The largest pile of snow coughed once dryly, shaking clumps of powder from his blond hair and face.

Another, the one closest to Elsa, wiped snow away with the back of her hand to reveal a smile, earnest blue eyes, and cheeks colored pink from the cold. "Elsa," Anna comforted, "you're doing just fine."

"R-really?" The platinum-blonde woman didn't whether or not her sister was being honest, or just trying to prevent the Snow Queen from having another meltdown.

"Of course." Anna squeezed Elsa's hand assuredly, before going in for a full embrace. "Trust me, this could have ended much more badly!"

"I'm... I-I'm terribly sorry." Elsa said. She buried her face into Anna's warm shoulder, wiping away tears that were bound to fall anytime soon. The Queen melted in pleasure from being able to touch her sister so freely. Anna's hug was like a thick blanket, a warm fireplace, and the smell of fresh flowers all at once. Elsa couldn't help but wallow in the Princess's love and affection, a little child blissfully secure within her sister's secure and strong arms.

For thirteen years, Elsa had yearned for this wonderful gift, which used to be so commonplace when she was still a young girl.

Elsa found herself laughing waveringly, but detested the sound coming forth from her lips; the laugh was too bitter to be joyful, and too full of self-loathing to be genuine. "I'm a mess," she hiccuped. Despite wishing to hold onto her perfect sister forever, Elsa forced herself to push away, and raised her pale hands. "I cannot even control my feelings before my powers start slipping out of control!"

Anna opened her mouth to say something to the contrary, but someone beat her to the punch.

"I'd have to agree with the Queen here."

Elsa and Anna snapped their eyes to across the table, and were surprised the see that Kristoff was the one who spoke up. Elsa quickly moved her head away from his brown, calculating eyes, which she was ashamed to say have agitated her. His gaze pressed against Elsa and sent chills down her spine, an entirely different force than the wintry one within; she knew the ice harvester was judging her.

As a subject of Arendelle, and her sister's trusted boyfriend beside, he had every right to do so.

"You make it snow and hail whenever you feel upset or scared," Kristoff said. "I get that. You can't really prevent it, so you might as well stop trying." He braced himself for Anna's inevitable death glare, but nearly withered anyway when it came.

Standing on the edge of the table, safe from the line of fire, Helge grinned sheepishly.

Kristoff shot his adoptive brother a dirty look, and quickly added, "I'm sorry if those words came out wrong!" Kristoff diverted his eyes back to Elsa, partly to escape his girlfriend's surprisingly icy stare. "However hard you try... it's impossible to hold back your powers, because that would require you to restrain yourself from everything, from everyone. I-I think you both know just how well that worked..." The young man, visibly sweating and knowing he just approached a sensitive topic, was certain that he was in for a punishment before the morning could arrive. "I-I'm just trying to say that there's no use in bashing yourself over your own emotions. What you're doing, feeling negative thoughts, it's completely normal!" He sucked in a breath to steel himself, and placed a hand on his chest. "Elsa, you just happen to come with a- a bonus. It's a human thing, something you can't simply shut out... so forcing yourself is only going to make it worse. Just remember that you have us, instead."

Anna was still visibly irritated at Kristoff and his blunt wording, but stopped staring daggers at him. The ice harvester gulped audibly, aware that this pot of trouble was not done boiling over just yet.

Elsa, on the other hand, found herself mulling over his remarks.

_There's no use in bashing yourself for something human._

Something about that phrase seemed to... relieve her, somehow.

Maybe it was because Elsa was desperate. Maybe it was because she sought confirmation that she was indeed not a monster, but a person who deserved to stand side by side with her family and friends.

Helge, knowing that he was nowhere near experienced enough in humanity to assist the three the way Grand Pabbie could, detected that the coast was clear, and cleared his throat to attract everyone's attention. He was ready to proceed with Adam's story in Ravendall.

Everyone dipped their heads to him, their faces set in iron resolve once more. The troll nodded back at them grimly, and flipped the old scripture to read from the next journal entry.

* * *

**Page 86:** _Five. Four. Three. Two..._

_One._

The chimes of the old grandfather clock rang melodically and solemnly, signaling the farewell of the dying day.

As of today, this marks my eighth consecutive day without visiting Guðmundr. I was supposed to have visited tonight- no, yesterday.

It's done.

My deal with him is over.

I'm free.

I don't have to listen to his life-threatening demands anymore.

I don't have to risk an arm and leg, to fight the living embodiments of fevered nightmares that haunt reality.

I don't have to slave away in forest beds, to listen to the often inane chatter of people who don't register as human.

As I walked down the dark and foggy hallways of what is supposed to be my home, another realization dawned upon me.

I never wanted the agreement to end.

My footsteps echoed in the oversized castle, rolling into a muted, gentle thunder that pervaded for entire minutes, pushing through the thick mists as if they were veils.

I was more than familiar with this sound, for it has been more than a week since I locked myself in here.

One of the knight armor props turned its helmet to me, and raised a hand to its visor in a salute. I nodded back at it in acknowledgement, and looked down on the palace floor as the suit remained in its post.

The winding carpet patterns with vivid shades of indigo and purple, mixed with an array of gold stars, started to twist and bend on their own accord. The lines morphed into hissing, thick serpents, casting coiled silhouettes within the fog that snapped at my unprotected heels with razor teeth.

I brushed them off completely, fully accepting that the castle suddenly developed snake pits.

Frankly, I've been ignoring a lot of things in the last couple of days. Even the freezing cold that was overtaking the castle seemed hardly a thing of note, compounded by the fact that I didn't see ice crystallize anywhere. In all seriousness, I don't remember how to sleep anymore, and I'm certain my sanity has taken a dip for of it. After all, I'm fairly sure the suit of armor shouldn't have been able to see anyone, much less a Prince, through those impractical visors.

Voices boomed in my head, all of them irritatingly loud in the hollow silence of the castle.

_Adam, what on God's graces has happened to Ravendall? I came out of my room, only to see a great, thick fog that smothered the entire castle! Next thing I knew, there was a brilliant flash of- Adam? Adam!_

_Why do you keep saying this is all your fault?_

_I'm sorry, King Trigve. It appeared your brother has developed insomnia..._

_More and more people are dying, Adam!_

_Your Majesty, he wouldn't eat his supper- force him down his throat!?_

_Can't you just defeat it like always said you have done?_

No, I can't. I'm too weak, too worthless to cut down even a piddling little mouse.

I took another step, parting the fog that laid on the floor like splashing water. The smog had managed to invade indoors, limiting visibility even within my gilded cage. It gave the darkened castle an even more foreboding atmosphere as a result, which only exacerbated my desire to be rid of this place.

No... I can't. "It" is still out there, lurking, waiting for me. That was why I cannot leave. That was why I cannot sleep.

Sometimes, the grey smoke covered paintings, which I have occasionally mistaken for windows. There were a few instances where I swore I could have seen someone smile and dance to an unheard galliard at the corner of my vision, or a battle of massive proportions raging soundlessly between uniformed men on horseback. Such delusions always fade and disappear when I try to finally approach them, though.

Other times, the grey smoke seemed to collect in a single location, creating vague shapes that could even be considered humanoid. For example, this one column of darkened ash stood alone at a fork in the hallway ahead of me, dressed in red garments-

No, wait.

I squinted blearily at the hazy outline. With each slow blink, I was growing more and more convinced that what I mistook for dark patch of cloud was a real person, the genuine article. I stumbled closer for inspection, until I was finally able to discern a tall man who stood in the midst of the smog. His face wasn't recognizable, unfortunately, but the man was dressed in the tradition scarlet and gold royal garbs of a messenger. By the way he formally stood, he appeared to have been waiting for me.

I waved a hand, gesturing for the Royal Messenger to proceed with his job. "Fire away, mister."

The man bent down for a curt bow, and announced, "I have more recent news of the kingdom's current condition, sir."

"Okay..." I said, my head tilted slightly befuddlement. This man's voice sounded very peculiar and just a tad bit garbled, most likely because of the acoustics of the empty hallways. Yeah, that seems about right.

The man, at least seemingly catching on to my puzzled expression, raised a hand to his mouth to clear his throat, puffing a few wisps of smoke with a few coughs. "The Ravendall Military is still unable to find a path out of the vast mist surrounding the kingdom. The lands beyond the town borders have become impossible to map and plot. I'm afraid Ravendall will remain trapped and isolated from outside help until further notice."

I grunted apathetically, staring at nothing in particular. "Tell me something I don't know."

"The air is growing colder and colder, sir. Nothing has developed frost, miraculously, but Ravendall's vegetation and livestock are suffering, and the people along with it. The water, which should have iced over a day ago, has literally become too cold to drink, and many are struggling just to remain warm with what's left of the firewood stock.

_Right, right. The recent chill..._

The muscles in my brow tensed into a scowl, as my brain produced a clear thought for the first time in a week.

..._In summer?_

"This mysterious plague, sir... People are _dying_."

I winced, as if I had been stabbed by a sharp blade.

_Why would I owe you a favor, Markus? you left me for dead!_

No, it wasn't because the herald emphasized that last word.

_Sir, what are doing with that soldier's sword? Sir!_

_Please... just- just her go. I'll come with you, I promise! Just don't hurt my daughter!_

I winced, because of the fresh wave of flashbacks that now threatened to overwhelm my conscience.

They were... parting gifts. Gifts that were sent to me daily, much to my extreme discomfort.

I nearly lost my footing from the disorienting images, a tableau of random colors and scenes that flashed in no particular order before my eyes. As I staggered to a side of the corridor, I banged my head against the forehead of a marble bust, turning my entire vision scarlet with pain.

"And everything is all your fault, Adam."

"'Everything... is all my fault.'" I breathed, parroting the man's words.

_Wait, what? _I blinked at the messenger, as if I was seeing him for the very first time.

I had to thank that ugly replica head for nearly busting mine open, because the invasive memories vanished in the wake of the fresh bruise, kicking my wits back into focus. I nursed the injury as my brain painfully dusted itself free of the mental cobwebs and nightmares, until I could finally run trains of logic again... starting with this one.

Something was very amiss; even the most frank Royal Heralds shouldn't be this... direct. This guy would have been sacked out of the castle for his lack of tact and subtlety, months before he could even give a regular economy report. What kind of person would be running around at this moment, denouncing royalty?

More importantly, what was he doing, reporting to _me, _when its already established I'm not fit to help the kingdom in my current condition?

I peered at this messenger's face for a closer look, and was astonished to realize that I didn't recognize him, at all.

Contrary to popular belief, the royalty of Ravendall made it a responsibility to commit the identities of each one of their employees, in both name and face, to memory. Mostly, it was a strategy devised to prevent assassination attempts carried out in disguise. Seeing as I already have enough beasties in the Lost Woods waiting in line to kill me for what I have done to them, I hadn't bothered to study up the record books until a week ago; I was forced to develop the habit because I had absolutely nothing else to do in the barren castle.

All of this,

this destruction and pain,

_all the blame can be laid at your feet._

The herald's voice, initially sounding just a bit erratic, as if it reverberated too excitedly through the barren halls, escalated in pitch and discord. A sneaking suspicion tugged at the back of my neck, which only increased in strength by the second. My blood ran nearly as cold as the air infecting the kingdom. "W-who are you..."

_you have already forgotten me, have you_

As the messenger spoke, I no longer worried about having to remember his face; the creature standing in the halls dropped its disguise for me. The scarlet shades of the herald's clothing washed down, fresh paint being swept by an invisible rain. More features began to melt away from its body, like candle wax rendered to liquid by an open flame. What I initially believed was human skin sagged off its cheeks and nose, dripping thickly onto the floor in pale drops of goop. The little splatters of slime boiled and frothed, pluming into thick grey clouds, touched with shades of rust. The monster's body writhed and elongated, until it was almost twice my height. It had to bend its back to accommodate the lower ceiling, conveniently looming over me like Death itself.

I stared up at the Spøkelse's true form, that hideous, twisted, scorched body made of tarnished metal and blotches of corrosion. Its face was almost skull-like in appearance, assisted by sunken cheekbones and disarrayed teeth. Each of its orifices and pores vented even more miasma that thickened the smoke in the castle. It was a relief that I only had to look at its empty eye sockets; the demon's eyeballs had either already fallen off or melted away, saving me from fainting out of sheer grotesqueness.

_you tried to kill me_

The creature rested a massive, skeletal hand on its chest, which contained the only attribute that was even remotely pleasant to look at; a clean gorge that stretched from the monster's pelvis, running all the way up to the its left shoulder. In the spewing clouds of soot, the scar managed to stand out by glowing faintly with a gentle, white light.

_a hand for a hand_

_an eye for an eye_

A bolt of smog, thick as the trunk of a full-grown tree, slammed right front of my left toe. The attack was a solid impact that cracked the floor beneath the carpets, rattling my feet all the way to my spine. I cursed my luck; these mind games, these torture sessions that the Spøkelse had been playing on me were increasingly elaborate.

I didn't spend time to mentally kick myself for being lured within the monster's proximity, and neither did I gape in shock. That would be a waste of precious seconds. I scrambled away, panting, my heart beating at the same rapid tempo of my pounding feet.

Pelting at full speed, I came to a corner at the end of the hall. Abruptly, I stomped my foot to stop myself and change momentum, so I wouldn't crash into the wall like an inebriated fool.

Just barely a second later, a whisper of wind sounded out, and something brushed past my face in a blur, sweeping a lock of hair. The object, revealed to be a massive and rusted shaft, slammed and dug itself into the wallpaper, quivering from the impact. Even in my frenzied state, I shivered; if I was a second slower, the spear would have been quivering by landing somewhere else.

Only one thought commanded my body at that moment, with such incredible clarity that I forgot I hadn't slept in an entire week: I have to get into my room.

The Ulfberht was in my room.

I sped through several corridors, many artworks and countless decorations, before the door to my bedroom was within sight. My muscles burned like fire, and my lungs wheezed for their last available breaths of fresh air. Desperately, my hand shot forward to grip the freezing brass handle. I gasped, and cringed heavily; the metal seemed hiss and steam, gluing itself my palms and fingers. Had the kingdom been so cursed the cold was intense enough to burn?

I shut my eyes, shoving away from my mind the icy needles that pierced and burned my skin, and swung the door open violently. I wrenched my hand free from the blistering doorknob, and darted into the threshold. I then slammed my back against it from the other side, hoping that I would be able to shut the Spøkelse out.

_One... Two... Three..._

There was nothing. No incoming footsteps, no ramming against my admittedly flimsy door, and no thunderous roars. Just the sound of my beating heart, which slowly faded to a regular pace.

_Seven... Eight... Nine..._

_What on Earth are you doing, counting? You know very well how useless that tic is._

_Hm...?_

Pins pricked and poked at my back. The sensation was acutely painful, as if thousands of giant spiders with sewing needles for feet crawled up and down on my spine, biting and stabbing freezing venom into my flesh. The hairs on my skin stood at their ends, and I itched something fierce. I resisted the instinctual urge to scratch and twist in fright, because that is a good way to be distracted from impending death. Slowly I sat up away from the door, feeling the sensation come to pass with instantaneous relief. and turned around to a chilling sight.

A jagged blade stuck out of the door, evidently having punctured my back. The dark metal didn't even leave any marks or cracks behind, but passed through the wood as if it was nonexistent. As I watched in bewilderment, the blade seemed to drain the door of its color, spreading outwards like a bizarre sort of corrosion. The blade bleached everything else around it, until my entire room was in monochrome shades of grey.

_Fourteen... Fifteen... Sixteen..._

My eyes darted around for the Ulfberht, which I had stored in my room since my self-imposed house arrest. Trigve forced me into keeping it within, since I had been intimidating the servants by brandishing and swinging a naked blade around. He convinced me after saying I could potentially harm others with my rampant paranoia.

But... It's only paranoia if such behavior is unfounded.

My legs forfeited beneath me, and I slammed against the floor helplessly. They had reached their limit.

I had to pull myself up with my arms, which were barely of any use themselves, to trudge and crawl my way to where I stored it, underneath my bed.

Something hissed angrily behind me, so I spun around to watch as a grey figure, man-sized this time, slipped straight through the entrance, merely resisted by what amounts to flimsily elastic paper. I could literally see a spectral image of the door's decorative patterns fighting against him, a threshold that tried to protect its sole inhabitant before giving way completely.

I attempted to pull the the sword out by the handle, but I was now physically too weak to even lift it out by one millimeter. Choosing the other option, I backed away and curled against the corner, hugging the scabbard as tightly as a child would with a security blanket.

The monster, shrouded in cold soot and ash, stood over me like an undertaker, judging with lurid iron orbs for eyes. The Spøkelse waved an appendage to form a long spear, whose cruel point gleamed in rust-tinted rays. It raised the shaft above its shoulders, and then launched the weapon with the destructive force of a cannon.

In my perspective, even at the spear's breakneck speed, it appeared to be almost frozen in time. I was nothing but mere prey in the way of the lance's trajectory, impotent and trapped. I could do nothing but brace myself mentally as it glided in the air with sinister grace, in a near straight line.

With a sickening splat, it sunk into my gut, and embedded itself into the floor beneath me. I gasped like a dying fish out of water, feeling the unnatural chill of the iron shaft spread from my stomach, constricting my heart, and freezing my brain.

_This is a mental attack. This is just an attack on your mind. You are not actually impaled. You are not even bleeding._

It sure felt like it, though. I groaned tortuously, releasing the sword from my hands onto the bloodless carpet, as my vision faded rapidly.

_give up_

* * *

Nobody wanted to lift me up on my feet, give me a warm embrace, or even do something as little as to touch me. If I wasn't treated with complete indifference, I was glowered at with pure contempt. Such is the way of a leper, forever cast aside because of his agonizing existence.

With each passing day, as I lived on the meager porridge the rare Samaritan would provide, I awaited the day when I could finally rest, once and for all. If only I could finally succumb to my disease, I would be able to ignore the stares, the harsh whispers behind my backs.

I don't have anyone to call a friend or a family anymore. They abandoned me as if I was trash, which would have been more useful to them anyway.

I couldn't even tell if the parasites gnawing at the insides of my skull were real worms, or just my psychosis acting up again.

_give up_

* * *

I couldn't forgive myself. I... I never will.

Hate, hate, hate!

I am a fool, a sick, twisted, perverted excuse of a human being.

What was I thinking, kissing her!? She was my best friend, the one bright spot of my life each day, and I had to be an idiot. I had to be reckless. I had to go and tear everything that I worked so hard for to pieces with a lousy spur of the moment.

Absolutely selfish. Completely disgusting. Not even a person, but a creature to be loathed.

Why couldn't I be happy with just being friends? That was supposed to suffice! That was supposed to be all I deserve...

She will reach her father soon. I'll be chased out my family and out of Ravendall, or be carried away by those demented doctors once again.

What is _wrong_ with me? Why couldn't I just be the good person everyone expects me to be?

Why... why couldn't I find love the way a normal person should?

_give up_

* * *

My perspective couldn't really focus on anything besides the spear buried in my stomach. My mind was so scrambled, I took those invasive memories, the shades of the miserable souls, in stride; I didn't even have the energy or resolve to cry or writhe in agony anymore.

The blurry silhouette shifted its body a hair lower, and a gust of smoke-congested wind flitted through my hair. The Spøkelse... almost sounded like it sighed in exasperation.

A smoky hand coalesced on the spear puncturing my torso, gripping the handle, and twisted it in place. Nausea oozed its way upwards, and my breathing became more shallow, until I was almost huffing impotently, starved for air. Impossibly, beyond the flashbacks that wormed their way deeper into my conscience, and the blood furiously pumping into my head, I was able to see the color of my clothes starting to fade and bleach from the entry point, and the monster's blazing eyes.

_give up_

I wanted to. I really, really wanted do. It seemed to be a delicious choice, to no longer worry about maintaining agreements, to no longer be a disappointment of a Prince. I wouldn't have to suffer any more injuries or attacks that threatened either my life, or my sanity.

Really, if I finally surrendered, I could stop worrying about the pains of life in general.

My hand raised itself waveringly, and clutched at the handle of the Ulfberht lying on the floor. I became surprised when the blade slid easily from its sheathe, ridiculously so. I stared at the edge of the sword, not entirely certain on what I was about to do.

There was this one inkling of an idea, though, which didn't seem like such a bad suggestion at the time. I care not to explain it.

As I drew the enchanted sword closer to myself, I found myself rather unruffled to see images twinkling on the bright steel; I might as well be completely mad, anyhow. The smooth and flat sides of the Ulfberht reflected what I believed to be my face, except that I was in a much different condition; I expected to see my frail, pallid, draugr-like appearance, but saw a healthier me instead, full of laughter, pride, and joy.

With an air of nostalgia, I watched as the steel displayed memories of the many days I have spent exploring the Lost Woods, in all of its lush beauty and splendor. Like moving portraits, the white blade repeated the epic fights, wild chases and negotiations I have been involved in, a few of them tedious, many of them exhilarating, most of them terrifying. I had only managed to survive through each of them with a bit of quick wit, reliable companions, and heaps of sheer dumb luck.

Even so, after a hard day's work, I would always feel a little proud of myself, knowing I was able to help Ravendall the one way I could without typically screwing it over. Me, Prince Adam, the useless second-born heir, who couldn't give a toss about politics, too confused about the treachery of economy and business, and too short-sighted and silly to be a military commander, was finally able to make a difference.

Then, I considered my beautiful kingdom, and all the various people who call it home. I imagined as many people as my thoughts could muster, some who were lovingly detailed, and others who were more vaguely recalled. It wasn't possible to remember everyone who lived in Ravendall, but I tried anyway, because every one of them was a person that I would sacrifice myself for in a heartbeat. Heck, I even included my brother, King Trigve, despite everything we had been through over the past year.

They all looked at me, a plethora of faces in various levels of cleanliness, shapes, moods, jobs, and outlooks. Each citizen had their share of enjoyable qualities, as well as their flaws, some of which were severe enough for me to outright dislike them.

But, most of all, they were people of Ravendall. I would sooner be subjugated by the demonic spirit, rather than risk the kingdom further harm.

However... was that even a choice?

With this epiphany, a flashback, stronger than any of the parasitic invaders trying to conquer my conscience, shoved everything aside and replayed itself with great clarity. An icy pit formed at the bottom of my stomach, because the recollection was from my _own_ head, taking place when I confronted the Spøkelse invaded Ravendall.

_how much will you have to lose_

_until hope finally abandons you to the inescapable depths below_

It said it'll kill me...

"But... did you promise?"

The Spøkelse's form flickered in response, bewildered at the sudden question.

_what_

"Did you promise for the safety of my people, after I'm gone? Did you say that you will stop consuming souls after you're through with me?"

The Spøkelse said nothing.

A fire burning white and hot started within my belly, giving me warmth that clashed against the unnatural chill. It spread to my entire being, melting away the fears, clearing my mind and sight, and reigniting my resolve.

I was many things, but a naïve moron was not one of them; I immediately understood from its lack of response that, even long after I'm no longer around, it will continue to kill others without discrimination, becoming nigh-invincible with enough time. If I were to give up here, how will anyone else be able to destroy it, to free the lost souls trapped within it?

I raised a hand to the spear planted deep in my gut. If I were to lose here, I would never forgive myself, even after an eternity in a purgatorial afterlife.

"W-will you stop killing people, even after I'm dead?" I asked, coughing. "Did you even bother to lie to me?" I heaved with all that was left of my strength, my arm quaking with fatigue as vivid pain sent spasms through my entire being. I sucked in a breath, and pulled even harder, sweat dripping down my brow and stinging my eyes. When the torment proved too much, I only permitted myself a couple of seconds to reprieve, before trying once more. The ghostly metal in my grasp began to smoke and char profusely, as if my fingers and palm were white-hot brands against it.

The Spøkelse watched me with unnatural stillness as I gave a final tug, and yanked the spear fully out of my body. It fell with a clatter on the floor, before dissolving into ash and burnt cinders. The hand which I used to pull the shaft out fell limply onto my stomach, which no longer had anything sticking out of it, or even an open hole. I smiled deliriously in relief.

_all humans deserve the same fate that will come to you_

"I see." A laughter bubbled in my throat, escaping with almost gleeful madness and scorn. "If that is your answer, then I'm not gonna just cage myself and watch while you march around all mighty and high. Go ahead, try swallowing me! I would probably just muck around in your insides until you vomit each and every soul out in disgust! No matter what, I'll make sure to wipe that smug expression out of your face, Holmgeirr!"

I couldn't even lift the sword with my other hand to point at the Spøkelse anymore, but I didn't care. I jeered at the great monster, and seethed, "So here's _my_ answer to you: Bite. Me. You impotent, limped-staffed kut!"

The Spokelse did not make a growl in response, exactly. However, a rumbling that could have been mistaken for a miniature earthquake did strike my room, knocking over loose furniture and flinging books from their shelves. Soot vented everywhere as if by a volcano, nearly choking my bedroom in grey miasma. The smog solidified, forming thousands upon thousands of spears, casting vast shadows that couldn't even permit a single speck of light through. All I could do was watch as they aimed at me, gunning straight for my heart.

I shot an audacious, toothy smile back at them and the wrathful ghost in response. My entire body is tired, but that was perfectly alright. My conscience was fading, anyway.

A brilliant flash of fire, made of radiant blue and white flames that seemed to whisper in indecipherable gospels, burst in a near-silent explosion, blowing the Spøkelse and his weapons out of sight with an extraordinarily scorching and blinding gale.

I no longer paid attention afterwards.

I can finally sleep.

* * *

**Page 91: **Humans have an odd way of interacting with the world around them. Take the sun, for instance; its light is often dubbed as a ray of hope, a glimmer in the darkness, a rebirth, and a silver lining behind tempest clouds, inspiring a whole slew of five-coin proverbs. Farmers need it, poets and writers praise it, and many religions worship it. Even in secular circles, the sun was a thing to appreciate and revere, and that ball of fire is not hesitant to prove why; this monarch of the sky dances all day in its pompous glory for everyone on Earth to view, outshining its neighbors, the moon and the stars, with its majesty until retiring at nightfall. The fact that many cultures call the sun a deity should come to no one's surprise.

Yet, despite its love for attention, the sun is a fickle mistress. From a cynical viewpoint, this great light fixated in the heavens fire blinds anyone who dare lay their eyes upon it, and blazes all who remained beneath it for too long.

Because I wasn't in a poetic mood at the time, my thoughts about the sun were less than cheerful.

"That idiot dwarf cheated me," I grumbled, lying on a patch of grass. I blinked at the pinpoint needles of light seeping through the forest canopy, threatening to destroy my eyesight. "This isn't a perfect napping location; it's still too bright in here!"

A different voice spoke up softly in response. "Really? I think this spot is pretty neat."

I grunted, settling myself into a comfortable position on the grassy floor. A mop of storm-grey hair settled beside me, belonging to a young man two years my junior.

"This is some bizarre stuff, this little, uh... 'yard,' you said?" Algar ruffled his fingers alongside the gentle green blades, which, upon closer inspection, were nurtured in perfectly arrayed and latticed patterns. From a bird's-eye view, the small meadow would have displayed some sort of carpet design, the owner's name, or something else just as flamboyant.

"It's fjær-grass," I explained. Unique to Ravendall, this type of special foliage is absurdly rare in the wild; Lighter than the wispiest of clouds, softer than the highest quality of feather downs, and more insulating than wool, this plant was prized in all of Norway except in human society, where people are not even aware of the plant's existence.

A good number of the smaller critters that inhabit the magical realm forgo pelts and feathers, replacing them with this type of flora, for material to make high-quality mattresses and underwear. Due its comfort and rarity, the amount of fjær-grass in one's possession became a pillar of social standing, with wealthier folks from various species owning an entire wardrobe of woven emerald blades.

I myself purchased a grass-weave undershirt from a traveling troll merchant a few weeks back, at quite the cost. It was the loveliest piece of clothing that I've ever wore, although I've attracted a few curious looks from the servants while wearing it around the castle.

"...Naturally, Guðmundr's basin, where his ash tree was located in, contained the largest plot of fjær-grass in Ravendall, making the garden patch we are currently on a distant second." I said, finishing my impromptu lesson. The dwarf who owned it granted me permission to use his treasured yard whenever I liked, as payment for a certain favor, not that I mentioned that to Algar; both the dwarf and I agreed never to speak of that incident ever again.

The boy sat up to look at the surrounding woods, enjoying the pleasant scenery that could only be appreciated in the tranquility of one of the few safe pockets within the Lost Woods. The trees swayed rhythmically to the unheard beat of the wind, rattling their leaves in harmonic whispers. I just smiled contently at him, happy that I was able to share this special part of Ravendall's forest with a living, fellow human. For once, I felt like a friend, even a brother if I daresay; someone who can be looked up to earnestly, rather than always down upon.

I closed my eyes, and sighed exasperatedly to myself for indulging in this little delusion. _Your relationship with Trigve, your own brother must have been beyond tattered by now, if you are becoming this attached to a lost child._

Algar turned his head to me brightly, commenting, "Guðmundr sounds like a difficult guy to work with, especially involving the ghosts."

"Eugh, like you wouldn't believe."

"So... why do you continue to serve him?"

"Eh?" I lifted a single eyelid to look at him questioningly. "Didn't I already tell you that we had a deal?"

"After he helped you back on your feet that time, you could've always walked away from the agreement." The boy hesitated a little, but added, "It would have saved you a load of trouble."

_Hm... _I opened both eyelids, and stared at a single leaf hanging on a tree branch. I lost myself in thought, as I watched dainty leaf valiantly dancing in the summer breeze.

_Why did I stay, when I could have just left the Lost Woods?_

I knew I was spoiling Algar, but I ought to give the kid some honesty about myself. Perhaps it would give the wannabe hermit some things to chew over. "Uh..." I started, noting the boy's full attention on me. "I guess that... that I didn't run away from Guðmundr after he saved me, because I was running a little low on people to call companions."

Admitting that was surprisingly simple and easy; I must've been in a talking mood today. "He's a callous jerk, but he was also the closest thing I had to a friend."

Algar's eyes grew as wide as tea saucers at my answer. "I thought you have a lot of friends."

I waved a hand dismissively at him. "The people in my kingdom liked me well enough," I explained, "but there's a difference between being liked, and having someone's back. Frankly, I'm sure a good number in Ravendall are only nice to me because they're afraid I might torture them for badmouthing, or something similar."

"Do you?" Algar interrupted.

Raising a single eyebrow, I wryly retorted, "Do I look like the type, kid?"

The storm-grey haired boy blinked in comprehension, and dipped his head quickly in embarrassment, aware that his comment was rhetorical. "I'm sorry... please, proceed."

I patted him on the back, wanting him to know I wasn't really offended by his remark. That's how friends are supposed to react... right? "Even King Trigve... Well, as far as I know, when he's not always calling me out, he cares; it's really hard to tell these days. We don't look at each other face-to-face anymore."

"I thought he's your family."

"Correction," I stated, raising an index finger upward to emphasize my point. "_Onl_y family. About a couple weeks after I agreed to become a Landvættir's personal lackey, Trigve and I were-..." I steeled myself for the inevitable hiccup in my mind. "…were left with only each other. He has no other choice but to put up with me, and my antics."

I could just see the wheels turning within Algar's messy hair, gears that tried to mesh together to fully grasp my situation. "I see..." he said slowly. "Then, I trust that Ravendall's forests do not have much companion material, either?"

"You're finally developing a good head on your shoulders, kid. True, I've got connections and companions all over the place, but they were mostly just for business. The closest people I have to true companions here was Guðmundr, and the ghosts, many who are just as ill-tempered as the old geezer. For them, it's an, ah, occupational hazard.

"The fact that I have an acquaintance that's human, friendly, _and _alive sitting next to me is a downright miracle!"

The boy's ruddy eyebrows raised themselves higher in surprise, now lost in his tangled bangs. "R-really?" he asked insecurely.

I grinned at him. "I'm being serious here."

"That's... that's pretty nice." he admitted, his face flushed. Algar turned himself to me, eyes still bright in color and curiosity. "You include ghosts as possible friends, right?"

"Sure," I answered, "I kind of have to, or else they will never find the peace to leave. I'm not going to bully them into moving on."

"That's incredible..." Algar breathed. "But... why help ghosts? No matter what you do, they are still dead."

I sighed, saying, "Yes, they are indeed gone forever, and nothing is ever going to change that for them. Despite what some of the kooks in the kingdom may tell you, death is final. No one, not even the most powerful spirits of the Earth, can bring someone back from beyond the afterlife.

"That won't stop me from giving ghosts the next-best thing, though," I continued. "They are still very human. They still have memories, their loved ones, and enough pasts to fill entire libraries with books detailying adventures, romance, and tragedies. These guys, these victims, they used to have hopes for their futures. Without them, they will need all the assistance they can get so they could find peace. Even if a shade is angry enough to act violently, I must help them understand that it's best they accept their fate; raging against the heavens and the world will only hurt themselves in the process, not to mention the potential collateral damage. They are still people, and someone has to play Good Samaritan."

Algar was near-silent, his eyes trailing elsewhere. The volume of his voice dropped so low, it didn't even register as a whisper. "Then... w-why do you want to help people?

"Come again?"

The boy's body twitched a little, and he mentally bashed himself for speaking too much. I can easily identify such a behavior, because I've seen those symptoms - the cringing eyes, the pursed lips, hunched shoulders, and the distant stare - looking out of my mirror for almost a whole year.

Nonetheless, Algar mustered the resolve to carry on, his voice strengthening with each syllable. "Um... Why do you go so far to help people?" The boy hugged his knees close to himself, curling into an upright human ball. "I've learned long ago that it was better to rely on just myself."

Now, this little comment had me very excited; the boy was persnickety enough when it came to divulging his own personal information, and this was the closest thing I had to a confession. I really, really wanted to push, and my mouth unfortunately moved on its own, before I could strategize a decent coaxing. "What about that little incident with the bear?"

Algar's head jerked as if he had been slapped, and he hugged himself even tighter.

_Great job, numbnut. You blew the conversation just as it was getting interesting, and frightened your only friend into shutting himself away._

_Huh. "Friend."_

I accepted defeat, more or less in bitter disappointment, and figured that I might as well answer Algar's original inquiry. "I'm the Prince of Ravendall, which essentially means I was born with the duty to do what's best for my people, and all who step inside it. I'm supposed be the leader they can turn towards to in troubled times. I must support them with my leadership and abilities, especially if King Trigve is not around to do his job." I watched the trees as they engaged in their majestic, slow-tempo waltz. "Cleaning up after ghosts is just an extension of responsibilities, in my opinion."

The boy said nothing, but looked at me incredulously for my almost-casual tone.

"I mean, that doesn't mean that it wasn't dangerous, or that it wasn't absolutely exhausting!" I blurted. "I was subjected to some horrid stuff while helping spirits get back on their feet! I'm surprised I was not reduced to quivering wreck by now!

"Although... in hindsight, this job wasn't much more different from actual royal duties. It's just that I was so lousy at politics anyway, protecting Ravendall from the Lost Wood's shadows became what I perform best, what I could do to stand out from the rest of the royalty.

"Ah, I'm rambling. I'm starting to stray too far from the topic, aren't I?" I didn't check Algar to see if he nodded his head in agreement or not, because this question was more or less directed to myself.

"But the true reason is... um..." I snorted derisively. _Look at me, trying to delay the inevitable._ "Hm... I guess the true reason for why I would help my people, besides being Prince and all, is because they are just like me, even my brother."

I paused to sift more words from my conscience, hoping they would clarify my answer. "Do you know they call me 'Adam the Adventurer,' these days, Algar?"

The boy shook his head slowly, but I swore that I heard a titter. Kids.

"Yeah, I think the name's a tad ridiculous myself. It is also incredibly misleading, because the name implies I'm remembered for the journeys I've undertaken." I shook my head in slight disbelief. "Everyone seems forget that life in general is a journey. These guys, they all have their own hopes, their dreams, their own lives. They are living their own adventure, and I would be damned to deny them the pleasure of being alive and safe, even if that means I have to lump more hardships and pain on myself."

It was an incredible relief, as if a massive weight that I never noticed before was suddenly lifted from my chest. I was absolutely giddy from finally confessing my troubles out loud, and to a peer no less!

I stared at the tree canopy in wonder, the entire world seemingly painted in vibrant colors that I never noticed before, starting with the leaves of the forest. Owning up to myself was akin to lifting a heavy veil from my eyes, permitting me to see a potentially beautiful future. The sun didn't sting my eyes anymore, and I welcomed it as it slipped through the leaves and branches. Matching my revelation, the sun's light changed color, becoming radiant shades of pale gold. There was a reason why philosophers would wax poetic about the sun, this great monarch of the sky; it was an absolutely stunning work of nature.

The rays of light pierced the forest floor like tangible pillars, blocking sight of the scenery behind them. A shaft of light shining at my eyes seemed to swell, swallowing its surroundings with the hunger of an open flame. The light expanded further, spilling down the ridges of branches and bark, pooling into the forest floor and grass around me, painting my entire world in sparkling gold.

"Algar! I shouted to my side, my voice growing strangely hollow and modulated. "What's going on?"

Algar wasn't anywhere nearby. I was the only one to be swallowed into the sun.

* * *

**Page 94: **Even as I squeezed my eyes shut, the golden radiance still burned through my eyelids. I groaned tiredly, turning my head side to side in the hopes that the light will stop shining. When it didn't, I waved a hand above me briskly to block the sun out; I wasn't going to have something as silly as daylight ruin my perfectly good nap.

The back of my hand slapped against something warm and soft, eliciting a stranger's grunt of pain. The light faded away almost immediately.

Wait, what?

I struggled to lift myself up so I could investigate, only to feel a gentle weight push me back against the soft mattress. Curiously, I lowered my hand on my chest, and was surprised to feel heavy cloth reminiscent of the blankets in my bedroom. I blinked my eyes rapidly, coaxing them into opening wider, seeing flashes of a familiar ceiling as a result. An additional second's worth of examination proved that I was indeed lying on my bed, in the security of my room, within my palace home.

"Are you enjoying your respite?"

Ah, that unfamiliar voice again. It was definitely baritone and masculine, that's for sure. But, more importantly, what on Earth was he talking about? What did he mean about respite? Why was I here? I fought to sift through my head, trying to recall the last time that I was fully conscious.

A spectral image of a thick and wicked spear, its blade point glinting red and muted as it impaled and drilled through my gut, was brought forth from my mind. Instinctively, my breath shortened in fright, until I was almost light-headed. I convulsed like a dying fish, and curled my legs and arms toward myself, a futile attempt to cover my stomach.

A leathered and sturdy-looking hand rested itself on my chest out of nowhere. "At ease, young man. I've made sure the shadowed fiend will not be able to harm anyone for a while."

My breathing slowed down to a steady pace at those words, and I peeked at the man who spoke them. Much to my surprise, he did not look like he had any business within the kingdom.

Judging by his appearance alone, he seemed to have come from nowhere near Ravendall territory. His eyes crinkled at opposite ends, giving him an older face that was accustomed to laughing and smiling. His skin was bronzed and worn-looking, as if he spent years aging underneath the sun, but his straight posture and fluid hand-movements breathed of strength and energy. He dressed himself in thick, pelt clothing, with pale tufts of fur for trimmings. Adorning his head was a pointed hat, also sewn in fur. A hand-stitched sash, striped boldly in bands of red and yellow, wrapped around the man's waist, and his pants were dyed in a stark shade of blue.

His choice of footwear was the most intriguing aspect of his outfit; the stranger wore deer-skin shoes with toes that curled upwards, a sure-fire indicator of his race.

Frankly, I don't know too well of the Sámi. They were the indigenous people of Norway, natives who lived and thrived generations before the first arrival of Norse settlers. The tribe's presence was next to non-existent within the stretch of land that eventually became Ravendall; rumor has it that the Sámi refused to live anywhere close to the Lost Woods, for obvious reasons.

The fact that a man of their ethnicity was standing right in my room, at the heart of Ravendall, _and_ in the middle of a spiritual plague no less, meant that there was an incredible driving force for him to be here.

"Excuse me," I said, my tongue feeling strangely thick. I tried to sound as polite as my slurred voice would permit. "Who are you?"

The man's broad mouth broke into a gentle smile. "I'm just an old man who happened to pass by." he answered. "It appeared that the people of this town needed some help."

"That's a bit of an understatement there, sir." I altered my position underneath my bed covers, reaching to scratch my head.

The elder held out another hand to stop me from moving further. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." he warned. "The healing hasn't fully settled in yet, and I trust that you do not wish for a backlash."

Healing? Backlash?

The healer reached into his fur jacket, and pulled from within a simple string necklace, decorated with a single, large yellow crystal. The rock glowed by its own luminescence, a miniature star hanging from his neck.

My breath was taken away in recognition of the shining gem, and I stared at his necklace in awe. "Is that... is that what I believe it is?"

"Yes. This crystal is a keepsake from the trolls, proof of my credentials in their skills. I have been using their brand of magic to mend your mind."

Out of a morbid sense of curiosity, I tried recalling the memory of a leper living his daily routine.

I could still see the dark and lonely alley where he would hide to sleep, away from the curious eyes of pedestrians and law enforcers. I could still remember what made him an outcast; a grotesque scar occupying the sick man's left side, sores that opened deeper than the human body should be permitted to reveal to the open air, and bulbous boils of various sizes, some as large as full-grown grapes, that oozed a clear, runny fluid copiously.

These memories of different lives like this leper didn't disappear. Yet, all I could only feel was immense relief, even as these images repeatedly played themselves over. It didn't take me long to understand why: This time, I was now fully aware of myself.

Before the Sámi healer tinkered with my brain, I relived those terrible, maddening flashbacks as if they were my own. I hurt, I ached, I felt terror as they tore my breath away from me.

Now, inside the recollections that never belonged to me, I was no longer the main character, but a mere spectator to the event, an audience of a vivid, moving tapestry.

That didn't mean I should fully ignore these tragic lives now, pretending they never existed. To ignore the pain and suffering of a fellow person, human or not, may as well be an act of outright sociopathy. If I were to dismiss the fates of these men and women as if they were imaginary, my act would be a complete contradiction against everything I believed in, and everything I had been fighting for. I would be a hypocrite of the tallest order, and deserved to be punished accordingly in the darkest corners of The Lost Woods.

The better option was to learn from these experiences, to empathize with the victims. By understanding just how these events could create so much sadness, I can develop myself for the better, and prevent the next tragedy from ever occurring.

"I suppose the treatment worked well to your liking?" the elder asked tentatively, his hands clasped together out of anxiety. His thick brows hung low, as if he was experiencing disappointment within himself. "I'm not an expert," the man admitted, "but I hope I was able to take the edge off the trauma. If the procedure has gone through well, you should be relieved from your torment."

I... I felt incredible. My recovering body was sluggish as it can be, but my mind never felt so vibrant before, so free of its burdens. I gave it my all to smile at this miracle worker appreciatively. "You have given me more than I could ever wish for! You have my everlasting gratitude, kind man of the Sámi."

"I am but a wandering Noaidi."

"Even better!" I could have hugged and tossed him into the air out of joy, but my backside remained stubbornly glued to the bed. I had to make do by turning my head fully.

My elation vanished completely at the full view of my room, as if a candle flame inside me went out from a single puff of wind.

Through the threshold of my door, the grey, cursed mist crawled in snakelike tendrils, licking and lashing in empty air, clearly trying to invade and smother my entire bedroom in miasma. A sensation of impending despair replaced every last ounce of bliss I had only felt seconds before, my hopes crushed to leave behind a chilling emptiness.

The Spøkelse was still haunting Ravendall, wreaking havoc with its presence.

A sudden burst of strength overwhelmed me, demanding that I take action. I tore my bed sheets aside, and scrambled desperately out of bed, falling to my knees clumsily on the ground. The bedroom carpet scratched at my face as I pulled myself forward with trembling hands.

The older man ran over and knelt in front of me, understandably panicked in his tone. "Don't overexert yourself! You still have yet to recover both mental-"

"Please!" I grasped the man by his legs frantically. "You are a holy man! Save them! Help rescue my people!"

The shaman's eyes hardened, and he looked down on me with abject pity.

"Well?!"

"I'm sorry, Adam."

I stared at him in complete shock. He was supposed to be a hero, a champion over darkness, a worker of miracles!

"If you had just asked me sixty years ago, then I may be of use to you-"

"-Wait, just how old are you?"

"-But I'm far too feeble for such an adventure now. My days as a hunter have long past." The man's broad mouth stretched at the corners apologetically. "From what I hear, you have been doing an astounding job as a slayer within these woods. You certainly had a better track record with demons than mine!"

"What... what do you mean?"

"Combating hundreds monsters and spirits, without any training whatsoever? You are quite the walking phenomenon. As a matter of fact, you have been the talk of the magical community for over a year: People speak legends of you, Adam the Adventurer; fearless and bold, defending his home from the shadows that threatens the peace and sanctity of the world." The Noaidi chuckled fondly, and remarked, "You didn't even have to trap your targets in Helheim beforehand, instead choosing to face the monsters head-on!"

Helheim, the realm where all beings, sentient or otherwise, go to after death in the physical world. An alien plane of existence that serves as a checkpoint for souls that have accepted their fates, but are not quite ready for what lied Beyond.

A common tactic for holy men and slayers performing an exorcism was to trap spirits and malevolent fiends in Helheim, bypassing their defenses, before engaging in fights that would have shook the entire world. It didn't matter if participants were intangible, invisible, or invulnerable; in what was renowned as the Gateway for the Dead, the scales and odds between slayer and monster are balanced; both are stripped of their natural talents and attributes down to the soul; only the skills and the will to fight remain to stave off defeat by Subjugation. The only people daring and foolhardy enough to engage in such a risky method were humans, who had the least to lose for entering Helheim.

Can you imagine that? Humans, the physically weakest and least imposing sentient creature on Earth, with no natural weapons like claws or thick armor, and comparatively mediocre talents such as a questionable level of intelligence and pluck, benefited the most from being closest to Death's door, literally. Such irony can only be supported in Helheim, since the rules of the reality do not apply in the spirit.

I grinned sheepishly at the shaman. "To be honest, I never knew how to lure monsters into Hel. Everything that I have done, I've had help."

The old Noaidi laughed cheerfully. "Well, of course you've had help! Every man and woman who dedicate their lives to fighting evil had help to become legendary. It's how we survive our conflicts, how we endure our horrors and trauma.

"You may have not the traditional skills of a slayer or a hero, but I've seen into your heart for what you are." His merriment died down, but the elder continued to regard me with warm, twinkling eyes. "That was a beautiful memory, the one with that young friend of yours." He stood up straight, before bending his back forward into a low bow of respect at me. "I care little for the Crown, but you are a good man who deserves my attention."

A slow minute passed by in silence.

"So..." I asked dejectedly. "You really can't do anything about the Spøkelse?"

The healer brightened, losing years of age from his face, and raised a finger upwards. "Ah, I've apologized for refusing to defeat the Spøkelse, but I never said there was nothing I can do for your subjects."

A fire in my chest, originally reduced to charred cinders by misery, surged back into life with such a fierce rush of optimism, I began entertaining the irrational belief that the world wasn't unjust after all. This man truly seemed too good to be true. "Reall-"

"But I must warn you." The Noaidi interrupted, his voice becoming alarmingly chill. "You will forever live in exile from your home, never to return, unless you risk the spirit's wrath back on your people."

_Of course._

My home. Ravendall. It wasn't just this bedroom that I have rested in for all seventeen years of my life, or even the old castle which had been the boundaries of my childhood. It wasn't just the bustling town full of smells and sights, the flowing rivers with their orchestra of trickles and splashes, or the enigmatic forests filled excitement and danger behind every turn.

_"Prince Adam- Oh, I mean, Your Highness! What new story do you have to tell?"  
_

_"Have a seat, Prince Adam! You look like you're ready to dig your own grave!"_

_"Y-you were talking to me? N-no one has ever done this before..."_

_"When will tell us the bit where the serpent nearly took your foot?"_

_"If you're so strong, Adam sir, why don't you try tossing me up to that rooftop over there? I won't tell my mom!"_

_"Your Highness? This... I-it's beautiful, but I can't accept this..."_

_"Adam, I... Good night, brother."_

Home was also my people, the citizens of Ravendall. Regardless of what I've said before to that boy Algar all those months ago, I was at my happiest when I am simply hanging around with the townsfolk. I enjoyed drinking with the workers, singing songs and dancing with the kids. I loved gathering everyone around who would be interested in listening to my not-so-tall tales, until I attracted a crowd that stayed for hours. How their eyes brightened with either happiness or amusement whenever I showed up, they way they showed their full appreciation of my company…

I've never been anywhere beyond Ravendall! What am I supposed to call home now? Why must my journey continue by leaving my birthplace behind?

_Something in the distance fell with a dull thud. A piercing scream resonated through the haunted streets of Ravendall. _

_Another soft thud, and a fresh wave of screams._

No... I swore myself to protect Ravendall from the horrors beyond the human world. Bringing my fight with the Spøkelse to the innocent civilians was my wrongdoing, and I'm not going to abandon them just because I'm already feeling homesick. If I have to be forever exiled from the home I've known for all of my life, then so be it.

I sucked in a long breath, knowing just how tumultuous this decision will turn out. Bizarrely enough, I suddenly thought about the one guy who would have shot my choice down, with a full artillery if he could manage. "Does... does Trigve know?"

The Noaidi hardly seemed surprised by the question. "The King? We eventually came to an agreement, but not without a fight. He was quite adamant about you staying here, you know."

_That... actually sounds very much like Trigve._

"Nonetheless, he finally concurred that leaving is for the best." The shaman pulled his sleeve back to reveal a muscled arm, and some sort of eccentric metal piece wrapped around his thick wrist. Clashing rather blatantly against his natural clothing, the gadget was evocative of the watches I've seen Southern nobles wear around their necks, except miniaturized. "There is still time before the break of dawn," remarked the Noaidi. "You can have a last chat with your brother, before we must say our farewells."

I reacted violently, choking and sputtering for what it was worth. "W-wait, talk? Look sir, I-I am grateful for everything you have done, but are you sure that's a good idea-"

"-I'll give you two some privacy." Before I could protest any further on how this conversation will be doomed from the very start, the Noaidi turned the handle with an audible click, and creaked the door wide open. "I've finished my care for the Prince." he called out. "You two are free to talk now."

My elder brother, King Trigve of Ravendall, stepped inside my room.

* * *

**In my last author's notes, I mentioned that writing this chapter will be very heavy for me.**

**I lied. The planned update went and expanded itself to uncontrollable levels again. I had to split it into two before I was overwhelmed.**

**Fear not! Chapter 11 will guarantee to be the finale of Prince Adam's Story Arc!**

**I do have a one, really important question to ask, so I won't get myself into some trouble: Does this story still fit in a K+ rating? I know there's a bit of violence in here, and I've been becoming paranoid about stepping over some lines. I really don't want to have this changed into a T rating though. Thank you in advance for your advice.**

**I don't really have much else to say, except that the chapter title will be Life's Too Short.**

**See you guys soon, fans of _Frozen_.**


	11. Ch 11: Life's Too Short

**THIS was supposed to be the chapter that was difficult for me to write. **

**And then the _Royal Reunion_ happened today. ****Way to make me feel inadequate, robert3A-SN.**

**All rights go to Disney, and credit goes to FrozenRose1 for editing this thing.**

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_**"What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey.**_

_**The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon."**_

—**G. K. Chesterton**

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Chapter 11

Life's Too Short

* * *

**Page 99: **King Trigve of Ravendall stepped into my room.

Ever since our falling out around a year ago, I resolved never to look Trigve directly in the eye. I figured that, since neither of us could stand each other's company anyway, it was best that we stayed out of each other's lives. Much less frustration and protest for both parties involved.

In hindsight, that decision was a bit of an overreaction, a silent tantrum to run my point through, but I stuck to my guns stubbornly. Because of my weekly excursions into the Lost Woods, and because we lived inside a vast castle riddled with multiple routes and alternate pathways, avoiding him became a surprisingly easy task.

I was ashamed to say that I eventually failed to remember what my brother looked like. To cope, I considered that knowing him for the sixteen out of seventeen years of my life had to account for at least a basic portrait; a narrow face, blue eyes, longer charcoal hair, thin lips, and a smattering of freckles that somehow avoided his long nose. However, this mental portrait is far from perfect, and the comments dropped regularly by a few people only added to the confusion. A few of the middle-aged citizens of Ravendall would sometimes mistake me for the King, blaming our striking resemblance when I correct them. Some of the servants within the castle misidentify one for the other, before being subjected to a brief lecture on how we clearly don't have much in common. Even Mother, before passing away, used to remark that Trigve and I looked absurdly alike, much to our rarely mutual horror.

I never understood before exactly how these people made the connections between us, especially as we became adults. Our years growing up together only accentuated our differences; despite being several years my senior, Trigve stood a fair distance below my eye-level (another quality that aided me in ignoring his existence), and his naturally heavy brows bestowed him a perpetual glower, in contrast to my capability to actually smile. He kept his hair long and slicked back, which I always believed was too much work; I just cut mine short so I don't have to spend as much time maintaining my appearance. Trigve can grow a full, thick beard, while I could just barely produce a few whiskers, too frail and too wispy to keep. And, while he at least shared a similar body shape to mine, his inherent distaste for outdoor play made him stockier and heavyset.

At least, that was how I remembered him.

Now, I hardly recognized the only family I had left.

These descriptions no longer applied to my brother anymore. At some point in the past year, Trigve had undergone a complete transformation for the worse. For one, being King took care of his excess weight. He was thin now, the kind of boney thin that made one wish he fed himself more often. Furthermore, his freckles were nearly blended with his skin, no doubt due to a lack of time outside in daylight. His previously well-combed hair was disheveled, and riddled with silver, dried-looking strands, adding several years prematurely to his face. Most drastically of all, he completely shaved away his beard, revealing a sharp jaw line that I had long since overlooked in my mental portrayal.

At that very moment, I realized just how a few people could have confused the two of us; we shared our mother's eyes, our mother's facial structure. We were her sons, and the years changed nothing about that.

My older brother, estranged for more than I could ever remember, was now standing inside my bedroom, and I had nothing to say to him. I really, really dreaded the day this situation would come knocking on my door, and here he was. Desperately, I craned my neck for a sight of the Noaidi, but the crafty old man had already slipped away into the halls, abandoning me to my fate.

Trigve and I stared at each other in silence. I shivered from the intense cold, but was otherwise immobile. Trigve's behavior was hardly any different; the King seemed absolutely paralyzed. While his back and face was straight and rigid, they were all part of a breaking facade to hide how uncomfortable Trigve was within such close proximity to me. His body quivered and jolted minutely, as if he wanted to move, but found his feet rooted to the floor. His knees buckled in place, most likely because not enough blood was flowing through them. I could tell he was itching to say something, just by the way the muscles in his jaw popped and shifted, but his lips were glued together. The King's attempts to compose himself only made him all the more painfully obvious.

"You look different." I remarked, before the silence could become unbearable.

Evidently, Trigve hadn't expected me to be the first to speak, for his heavy eyebrows darted upwards in surprise. "Uh..." He coughed, still not quite capable of forming a proper sentence. "E-er..."

After what seemed like a minute of him stumbling mentally over and over, he finally mustered up the courage the speak out. His words came out cracked, hoarse, and almost too quiet to discern. His natural baritone only served to make his voice even less audible. "It's been a while, since we last talked..."

"Well, yeah." I seated myself upon the bed mattress, looking at him evenly.

The silence in the bedroom only grew heavier. I was surprised the sheer pressure between us haven't pushed the spectral mist out of the entire castle yet.

"H-he..." My brother shivered in place. "That old man, he told me. He told me what you guys were going to do."

"Yeah?"

"He said... he said the source of this plague has been haunting you. Above all else, it wants your head for revenge." Trigve cleared his throat. "That man... he believes you can lure it out of Ravendall, back into the forest. He wants to use you as bait."

"Ah." I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly. "Of course."

"Wh-what?"

"As long as I'm still alive, the Spøkelse will continue to chase me with all of the tenacity of a starving hound. The Noaidi intended to take advantage of that fact, by using my fresh and tasty, not-subjugated self to draw it away from the kingdom. It'll be like taunting a vicious and viciously hungry bear with a fragrant fruit basket, before baiting it into a death trap.

"Sure, such a tactic sounds suicidal," I continued, shrugging my shoulders in acknowledgement, "but there's a real logic behind it."

Trapping a demon is a tried-and-true method, based on the behavior of mundane animals; attract the target with something enticing, then lock it away once it's guard is fully lowered. It just so happened that Ravendall was convenient enough to have an available trap nearby. I jabbed a thumb out of the window, which still glowed brightly with silver moonlight, despite the flood of ghostly ash trying to blot it out.

"The Lost Woods is a veritable labyrinth of trees and ancient power. The Spøkelse may be quite the heavy hitter itself, a host to at least several hundred's worth of souls and their life experiences, but it is by no means omniscient." I crossed my legs and rubbed my chin in deep thought. "If the Noaidi and I can lose the demon deep within Ravendall's darkest and most inhospitable forest, it will be left scratching its head on how to escape. After all, the Spøkelse only managed to reach the kingdom by tracking me down."

I tried ignoring this strategy's indefinite effectiveness, which ranged wildly between infinitely imprisoned, to merely delaying the inevitable.

After all, there's a reason all those myths about releasing otherworldly abominations from their prisons exist.

_Besides,_ I thought to myself, for a _monster as powerful as this? Given both the Noaidi's age and my condition, I couldn't see any other choice._

"The old man knows what he's doing, then." I finished gruffly. "Is that the gist of what he explained to you?"

About thirty seconds passed, and I didn't hear any reply. "Trigve?" I requested, looking up.

The King of Ravendall stared at me slack-jawed, his heavy brows raised so high I'm fairly certain his forehead was straining from the effort to lift them. His agape mouth stretched his face where his thinning body weight didn't, rendering his skin taut and gaunt. He was looking less like the brother I remembered, and more like a pale corpse that was too dry to rot. If it weren't for his piercing blue eyes, I would have thought my brother had just died standing up.

"Trigve!" I snapped, alarmed.

The King's eyes blinked rapidly, and he clamped his mouth shut. "Y-y-you..." he stuttered, pointing a quaking finger at my direction. "I-I've never h-... In all of these years-" he swallowed, "I've never h-heard you say anything like this. You've changed..."

I snorted in a feeble attempt to be amused. "A lot of things tend to change when you don't pay attention for a year."

A twinge of regret plucked within me, a cold hook tugging at my heartstring; Trigve looked as if I had just walked straight up and slapped him. It was never in my intention to; in spite of everything that happened between us, all of the ignoring and the pain and isolation, I never thought that the one day we finally see each other face to face, we would be so... jilted. Awkward.

The man looked like he was about to collapse to his knees. Instead, he did something akin to a shuffle forward, until I was forced to tilt my head to look up at him from my seated position. "Please..." he said weakly, his eyes misty. "You don't have to go. I-I'm sure we could find some other solution, with a more skillful person. There has to be other experts besides that shaman! You... you don't have to be leave home forever."

His pleas worked little to hide his true message: _Don't go. You're my only family left._

I turned my head away from him, staring at nowhere in particular. "You're being awfully talkative and concerned about me." I forced myself to look at him. "I don't get it. Shouldn't you be leaping with joy of having me off your back? I've been nothing but constant source of pain and worry, because of all the troubles I keep lumping onto the Royal Family."

Trigve's right eye twitched once. "You only get yourself into such troubles because you always left from home, disobeying my orders, doing who knows what within those forests."

Something ugly crawled into my voice, as I felt myself shake with irritation. "Trigve, I've told you before, I don't have a choice with these matters!"

"Always the same excuse with you, isn't it?" A side of my brother's lips pulled back into a snarl, and his face reddened intensely as he grew angrier. He brushed a hand from one side to the other as he spoke in a mock tone, "'I have to go today!' 'You don't understand, there's an ambush waiting to happen!' 'I must pay a visit to my ghost companions!' '_I don't have a choice._'" Trigve spat acidly.

Dropping the act, he flicked his chin upwards dismissively. "You could have done some honest work in your life for once. I was kind enough to let your ramblings slide for around a month, let you run free to do what you wanted, if it meant coping in Mother's absence! But now, you are always enraptured in your own little world, never paying attention to the serious matters that could threaten Ravendall's prosperity!"

"That's what I have always been doing!" I shouted back. "This whole time, I have been making sure the dangers of the Lost Woods do not reach here!"

"I cannot deny that the forests are incredibly dangerous..." Trigve's voice hardened. "Which is why it is better that you stay within the kingdom, away from these dangerous expeditions once and for all. You are a Prince of Ravendall! It's about high time you acted like one!"

I groaned, and brought my hands up to my face in anguish.

"You're just... you..." The man shook in place, his voice pitched a touch higher as he began to sound almost juvenile. "Absolutely irresponsible! You! Spoiled for freedom, ignorant, enamored by delusions of your grandeur! Like... like your very earliest grand offense, not long after you returned from your first visit into the Lost Woods! How could you miss the ceremony!?"

"It was just the traditional blessings! I came soon enough..."

"No, what you did was completely unacceptable! By the time you came back, covered in mud and rambling something about a river giant, the sun had fallen, and I had already excused everyone from the church, after delaying them from their business for so long, just to wait for you!"

"Don't. Don't you dare bring this up to me..."

"Oh, but I will!" Trigve jeered. "I don't see why I shouldn't share my experiences with my dear little brother! Well, let me tell you this! The reception was beautiful! People from all over Norway came to pay their respects! Everyone, except you!" Trigve bent forward and ferociously jabbed me in the chest with a thinned finger. "The Queen would have been so disappointed..."

"Don't you dare speak of her!"

You were the Prince of Ravendall! On that day, you should have been inside the chapel, standing beside me! I hope you are proud, missing your own mother's funeral!"

"ENOUGH!" I blurted. "No, why should I listen to you? Why should I spare you any kindness, with that little outburst? You don't deserve my sympathy, my respect! You always tried to beat me down with your poor excuse of authority." It was my turn to poke him hard into the chest. He was pushed backwards a fair distance from my strength. "You're too narrow-minded to think outside of your oh-so precious castle. You came here to beg me into staying, but it turned into a weak guilt trip because of you constricted viewpoint!"

I never had any hopes that Trigve and I would ever reconcile. As I predicted, the brotherly reunion fell apart into chaos; at least I was spared from any disappointment. We both stopped yelling at each other, settling instead for a grudging silence. Trigve's blue eyes burned into mine with such contempt, I was sure that he would lose the last of the love between us, excuse himself from my bedroom, and storm away, marking the last time I would ever see him again.

_Ever see him again..._

Even as my blood boiled in rage, some rational part locked away in the corner of my brain, something that I thought had already withered and died from neglect spoke to me gently.

_What was it like, to have only one family member who you can no longer connect to?_

Trigve, my one and only brother, continued to glare at me, but his blue eyes betrayed him; what I said cut him deeply, as if I just ran him through with my Ulfberht.

This... this wasn't how this discussion was supposed to end. What am I doing, rejecting my brother at a moment like this? The golden opportunity to finally have him understand was presented to me on a platter, and I squandered it out of petty wrath.

_He brought this upon himself, you know, bringing the funeral up._

_No, he's just being a person. You know he hasn't forgiven you for what you've done._

_You certainly haven't._

_What do you expect me to do?_

I focused back Trigve's pale blue eyes. They fixed upon me with anger, and steely conviction.

I really, really didn't wish to give in to my brother. Truth be told, I wanted to continue my personal vendetta against him, until it finally dawns upon his thick skull just how much of a blockhead he was being, how much of a mule he had always been. Honestly, I wanted to leave Ravendall right this instant, to prove he doesn't have even a semblance of control over me, and that everything he knew about me was sorely mistaken. It was just something humans tend to do; everybody wants to be the right one, the one who wins the argument, even if it means refusing to compromise for years.

Of course, that sort of mindset is what turn debates into stalemates, disagreements into feuds, simple squabbles into full-out wars. My position was not anywhere near worth taking to my grave; it's just a scuffle between two resentful siblings, both at fault to a certain degree. I've had enough second thoughts in my life; if I could at least part from Ravendall with one less regret, I might as well own up to my share of egregious mistakes.

"I'm-" I ducked my head away from my scowling brother, my shoulders sagging in resignation."I'm... sorry. For everything that I have just said." I quietly admitted. "I was never able to perform the tasks expected of a Prince, and knew that you had to pick up the slack in my stead. I mean it when I say that I was being an immature brat for with a inherent disregard for his personal safety."

I looked up at him and spread my hands. "But none of this matters right now. We have a supernatural threat on our hands, and I need you to believe in the Noaidi, and have me exiled before any more people are killed."

The King's own furious stance was beginning to break down, but his voice turned cool and detached. "Groveling will only take you so far, and I still don't trust your endorsement of this shaman-"

"Noaidi." I corrected.

"He never presented his name, and it is rude of you to interrupt. As I have said before, instead of listening to this man, who just happened to burst right in the midst of this enchanted mist, you should stay here, and hold yourself accountable to what you have brought upon this kingdom." He sucked in a breath. "Do you know just how many people died from this plague, from what you have brought out of the forest?

"Fifty-four." I answered immediately.

"I knew you have no idea about the ramifications of your recklessness. That's fifty-four innocent people who perished... perished." Trigve's stormy voice trailed off. He blinked, widening his eyes as he processed this information. His lips peeled open, dropping into a full "O". "You... you were mad for almost a week. How did you know? How on Earth did you know?"

I truly owed the Noaidi something of incredible value, treasures far more valuable than my life could ever amount to. When the round of horrific flashbacks came, I no longer struggled to maintain my own conscience, my sense of self. I can still see the shadowed images. I can still hear the shouting the jeering, the yelling with all of the hateful venom dripping from angry words.

And yet, at the very middle of my focus, pushing all my other senses away, was the sight of my older brother, whose anger was replaced with confusion.

"The Spøkelse..." I muttered. "I tried killing him because he was dangerous. The ghosts in the Lost Woods may as well be my friends. I wasn't going to abandon them to a predator as powerful and hateful as that demon. Who knows know many people it had hurt before?"

The King's voice sounded unsettled by my information. "The shaman said as much, but I don't understand what he was talking about."

"Fifty-four souls have fallen since the Mist, because I was with them when it happened. Every day, there are more victims who succumb to its torture. The Spøkelse, it had been playing its hand at revenge against me. He taunts with them, dangling their souls on strings as I am forced to relive their worst experiences and failures." I did my best to at least try alleviate the tension. "It might as well be a wake-up service nowadays, however unnecessary it was."

"What... what was it like?" Trigve's eyes looked into my own, mirroring my pain.

I had to avert my eyes from him, and my voice hushed with grief. "It's like replaying regrets that never even belonged to me, over and over again. The memory could be something as simple as being rejected by someone you wished to share a life with, to full outright survivor's guilt for not stopping a murder. I get trapped in these worlds that were so vivid, nightmarish, and real, because they _were _real." I breathed a heavy sigh. "Just... not for me, and certainly no longer for them. It's a wonder I was even capable of knowing who I am anymore. The downtrodden's emotional baggage became my own... Heh, as if I didn't have enough regrets within me already."

Trigve truly looked upset now, no doubt because he hardly ever saw his baby brother in a condition as depressive as this. "You... You seemed so carefree. So sure of your life, always able to put up a smile no matter what happened. I even envied your lack of responsibility, because it at least meant you have more room to be happy, more time to have fun."

I laughed bitterly. "Are you kidding? I'm like what you always said: worthless. I hated myself for not saying goodbye to Mom one last time, before she was buried. She had done so much for me, and I couldn't even show up on time and share a proper last moment with her. It didn't matter if the giant was going to set his sights on Ravendall, I should have at least paid my respects." I looked up at my brother wistfully." I loathed myself for turning you away, when we should have been carrying ourselves onward, together. I don't blame you for hating me as well, because it is no less than what I deserve."

"Adam, I never realized-"

"And now, I messed up big time, on the one thing I thought I could do right! I couldn't do politics like you can! What was I trying to prove, that I was some sort of hero? I was just some kid with a sword , thinking that he could fix his problems by running around and playing knight. I was the one who let it run rampant, the one who lead it into the kingdom."

"Stop it, Adam! Please, don't talk to yourself like that..."

"I made it my job to protect Ravendall, and now I'm just a helpless boy. Fifty-four innocent people died, and I can't do a single thing about it..."

Trigve made a strangled noise, and my heart sank even lower.

Then, my brother did the one thing I thought he would never do. Even when we were younger, I wasn't even aware that it was something brothers could actually _do_. We were supposed to get into competitions, bash and tease each other with our strengths to prove one was the better brother. Emotions would be considered a weakness, so any gestures and tokens of affection were met with disgust. Tears. hugs and kisses were judged as crossing a line, stuff that only sisters should do.

At least, that was how I always believed brothers were supposed to behave.

Trigve slowly sat beside me, the additional weight creaking my bed audibly. Then, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.

My estranged brother, King Trigve of Ravendall, actually _hugged _me.

"T-Trigve?"

"Adam... I could never bring myself to hate you." Trigve murmured. "You can be such a pain at times, but you are my brother. Siblings should never hate each other." He squeezed even tighter, making it harder for me to breathe. "All this time, I thought you were just ignoring your responsibilities, when your were involved in something so incredible. You have been trying to do good for our people, protecting them with your life..."

"I-is that really news?"

I've never truly believed you, but... this plague has made me see things differently. That shaman- no, Noaidi, he proved that you were right about the Lost Woods all along. You were right about everything.

"Adam... I'm sorry I wasn't out there for you when you needed me most. I'm such a lousy excuse of a brother, for making you think so lowly of yourself." His voice started to quaver, making it difficult to hear him. "Even if I could, I have no right to hate you."

Something welled up within me, threatening to escape and cause me to shatter into pieces. It took all of my willpower just to choke back a sob. "Y-You know about the times you told me to stay home?" I sniffled. "I always knew that you wished to keep me alive, even as I ignored your orders to stay put week after week. But hearing you say that you truly care is... overwhelming."

Trigve was rendered still by my comment, but not for long; the King began shivering, and I swore I felt something warm and wet spreading upon my shoulder.

I was on the verge of breaking into tears myself, so I didn't try to rib him for beating me to the punch.

"Brother..." I mumbled. "I'm scared. I don't know anywhere else besides Ravendall."

"You'll do fine, Adam." Trigve let out a shaky chuckle. "You have always been a blessed man. I have no doubt you will flourish."

Eventually, he released me from his hug, and we just sat quietly on the bed, patiently.

Trigve and I didn't have much to talk about; we were just too different and distant to hold an entire conversation. The only thing that made sense to us now was to watch the bedroom window together, and wait as the hours ticked by.

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**Page 103: **In the dark, haunted mist that smothered the entire town, not a single citizen was aware of several silhouettes stealing away in the middle of the night. Normally, two of the people behind the fogged shadows would have caused an uproar with their mere presence, being the Royal Brothers after all, but we decided not to attract any attention just yet.

I sighed to myself in faint disappointment. In a perfect world, perhaps in a storybook, the Prince and the King, two brothers finally reconciled after a year of grudges and hardships, would announce the shocking news throughout the streets of Ravendall, until everyone in town gathered around to see such a miracle. In a perfect world, the entire town would wave at me and the Noaidi, shouting their tearful farewells and good-lucks as I enter the Lost Woods for the last time, against the light of the rising sun.

I tilted my head in a double-take. I'm being too much the romantic to fantasize something as absurd as _that_ premise, in the midst of an ominous plague no less.

_Of course this isn't a perfect world, you dope._

_The Spøkelse could have been watching._

Appelsin snorted gently, rolling his soft, dark eyes at me. Evidently, the same thought crossed his mind, albeit with much less appeal. I smiled sheepishly at the stallion, shivering from the intense cold, and patted him on the neck. He truly is a good friend, this noble horse of mine. Immediately understanding the gravity of the situation by the moment I took him out of the stables, Appelsin did his best to behave as silently as horses could manage. Even his iron horseshoes barely clicked against the cobblestone pavement of Ravendall's winding roads tonight.

It wasn't long before the stowaway group finally reached the end of town. Craning my neck upwards, I gulped nervously, and shuddered from seeing the extent of the Spøkelse's power; even in the thick air, the demon's display of power was an awesome sight. A dense, raging wall of ash and smog bordered the last establishments of the town, stretching endlessly around until the poor visibility could show no more. The grey miasma towered for kilometers above, so not even the highest flying birds could surpass it. The smoke boiled and tumbled within itself, violent thunderclouds that were displaced from the heavens to continue their fury on Earth.

I swallowed hard. Once I walk through this wall, my journey will become a one-way trip to the unknown. I will no longer have a home to return to.

"That should be about everything," my brother muttered, checking the sacks hanging off of Appelsin. "Two day's worth of provisions for each of you, some traveling cloaks for warmth, and, for you Master Noaidi, a fresh sleeping bag to replace your ragged blankets."

The Noaidi bowed respectfully in acknowledgment.

The King nodded his head, but pursed his lips curiously at the shaman. "Are you sure that you don't need a horse yourself?"

The old man looked down at his pointed fur boots, and chuckled lightly. "Oh, no. I can just barely handle riding on a reindeer. I prefer to travel by foot."

I nudged my brother lightly with my elbow. "Trigve. You're behaving all fussy again."

"Hush, you." He punched me back lightly in the arm, a gesture that he hasn't done ever since he became King. "Let me enjoy this moment."

Now that we have finally settled our issues and matters down with each other once and for all, I found it much more relaxing to be around Trigve. Happy that I was finally able to show affection to my big brother, I gave him a warm, genuine smile.

It quickly faltered, however, at the scene behind him. Fog or no fog, the Kingdom of Ravendall seemed so... desolate. The Spøkelse had sapped the joy of living from the very air itself. Not a single soul hung around on the streets, not even a drunkard sleeping the booze away. There was no sound of nature, no singing of birds, no whistling of a summer breeze through a crevice. Besides us three men and Appelsin, there was only a heavy, suffocating silence.

I'm... I'm not too sure if I could bear seeing Ravendall without the swirling ash clouds enveloping the kingdom. I don't know if I could handle seeing a dilapidated shadow of the beautiful and vibrant kingdom it once was, after a week of monstrous ravaging and lives torn apart by grief and despair.

Especially the victims...

"Trigve... Abou- About the people who..." I couldn't bring myself finish the sentence.

The King placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, like a brother should always do. "I already arranged a memorial and funeral service for them, fit for a King. Their deaths will not amount to nothing."

"Y-you did?" Never before had I felt so much gratitude to Trigve. Too full of emotion, I embraced him tightly, and lifted him off of his feet with a slight grunt of effort. "Thank you so much... for everything."

"It's the least I can do for the people we care about, Adam." He pushed himself free from my grasped, and frowned slightly in thought. "I don't believe it. We are actually talking to each other, like an actual family. Even in the older times, when we were younger and happier, we would always go at each other's throats."

"You still look pretty young to me."

Trigve chortled. "And the baby fat has not melted off of your cheeks."

"I wish I could say the same about you."

The Noaidi cleared his throat loudly to catch our attention, and he looked solemnly at my brother. "The sun will be rising soon. This is where you must stay." he stated apologetically.

A lump of ice, colder than the ghastly chill infecting Ravendall, slid down my throat painfully, throbbing with fear and dread. I was terrified of the future. Beyond these clouds lies a world that used to be so familiar, but now seems completely alien in light of the situation. Once I leave Ravendall, I can never go back home. I will never see my kingdom again. I will never the one family I have left either.

Once I walk out of Ravendall with the Noaidi, I will be left on my own.

I turned to my older brother and, despite being much taller than him, felt like a young, scared child again. My throat felt incredibly parched and scratched as I forced my voice out. "I-I guess... I guess th-this is goodbye, then?"

Trigve regarded me sadly. "I'm afraid so."

Before I knew what had happened, he darted forward to squeeze me in a tight hug. I could feel him trying to lift me upwards, mirroring me, but I was too heavy for him. That didn't stop me from feeling touched by his efforts.

"Can you imagine our luck?" Trigve hiccuped. "The one day we could finally treat each other like brothers... -no, like actual and proper siblings, it has to be when I exile my whole family from the one life he has ever known..." He released me, his eyes brimming with tears that never suits anyone's face, much less the King's. "Life can be such a big joke at times, with the punch line being more of a punch in the gut."

Even while trying not to weep, I allowed myself to twist my face into a sour cringe. "Jeez Trigve, was that supposed to be a quip?"

"A wha- no, nevermind..." The King shook his head out of bewilderment, and resumed to gazing warmly at me. "Adam, I'm proud to have you as my little brother."

I blinked at him, completely nonplussed by his declaration. Never in my life had I hoped to hear such words from anyone with such sincerity, much less from the King of Ravendall. I thought myself too stupid, too juvenile to warrant such praise. "You're... you're proud of me?"

The King nodded. "Mother would have supported this statement as well."

Trigve was proud of me. My older brother... was _proud_ of me.

I first felt my shoulders shake, in no relation to the cold. The edges of my mouth pulled themselves downwards, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. It was getting harder to exhale, so I began gagging instead. I covered my face with a hand, desperate to hide the fact that the chokes graduated into full-blown sobs.

It was... I just... Look, I cried. I was a seventeen-year-old Prince that bawled with all of the restraint of a child. It was overwhelming, unpleasant, and just a touch embarrassing.

Trigve, as a proper brother should, made no attempt to rib me for breaking down. Instead, as a proper brother should, he thumped my back gently and repeatedly, muttering, "I'll find a method to keep us in contact, if you don't find one first."

"C-contact." I sniffled. I never would have guessed crying left me more optimistic for the future."Of course..."

I turned my head to the Noaidi, who was checking the strange metal time-piece fixed to his wrist. "I'm ready."

As the old shaman lead my by the hand into the dense, towering walls of spectral smoke, I snapped my view behind me, a frantic effort to see my older brother for one last time.

The image of King Trigve waving farewell was quickly lost to the swirling and overpowering mist.

The memory, however, burned in my mind for much longer.

* * *

**Page 107:** The creature, a serpent with eyes that blazed with an unnatural fire, lunged with the force of a powerful spring, opening its maw wide to bite me with dagger-length fangs that dripped fluorescent venom. The monster was enormous, large enough to swallow hounds whole with room to spare, and its glittering scales only accentuated the powerful, rippling sinews of the snake's muscles.

Wordlessly, I flicked the Ulfberht as it flung itself towards my neck. The enchanted steel shone with extraordinary brilliance, and the giant snake was rendered into two streaming ribbons. As its remains wriggled, it conflagrated into nothingness.

Beside me, the Noaidi tapped on a skin drum rhythmically while riding Appelsin, both looking rather placid in light of the current situation.

A hideous, grinning goblin, patches of its pallid skin coated in a glistening mixture of pungent sweat and saliva, charged while flailing a crudely spiked morning star. I widened my legs in a stance, and swung the sword over my head. The monster was bisected downwards, from its crown to its pelvis, before squirming in agony as it combusted into ash.

"Can you perform the ritual any faster?" I complained, wheezing for breath. It has been more than half an hour since we entered the Lost Woods, and several beasties decided to hold a hostile welcoming party throughout the entire trek. A week as a stumbling shut-in has not diminished my fighting skill too badly, but my stamina was hit hard. If the Noaidi could not finish his drumming soon enough, I would no longer be of use to anyone.

Another monster, a being made entirely out of shadows that dripped messily on the dead leaves and soil, darted its appendages in a black blur, intending to wring the older shaman by the neck. Without losing a single beat of the drum, the Noaidi brought two fingers to his forehead, bringing forth something blue and luminous between them. He swept his hand outwards, flicking a gout of light at the assailant. A chunk of where the shadow creature's head should be vanished upon contact, and it dissolved into a heap indistinguishable from the darkness of the trees.

"If who you describe is truly a Landvættir, then keep in mind I'm working as hard as I can. Spirits of his kind are very reclusive, you know." The Noaidi nonchalantly kicked away a screaming, dual-wielding imp attempting to hack at his shins. It sailed into the distance, dropping its primitive daggers to the floor.

"I sure hope so!" I shouted back exhaustedly. The gleaming eyes that stormed the Lost Woods seemed to multiply, lighting up the forest with their own lurid heat. I was beginning to tire, and these things just keep. On. Coming.

I grimaced in regret; the Noaidi knew that there were... quite a few entities that wanted my head on a platter, although I have no doubt he never expected this many to join the hunt. Really, the whole situation was mostly my fault; my deal with Guðmundur had guaranteed me protection against malevolent creatures and spirits in exchange for my services. It came in handy several times, as more and more monsters start developing grudges against me for debasing their territories, cutting down their blood kin, or something along those lines. They somehow learned or detected that my agreement had been relinquished, along with my immunity, and took the opportunity to attack my team with the tenacity of frenzied wolves.

A figure stepped forward, flinging aside a vaguely spider-shaped demon. The pathetic thing was tossed with enough force to splat sickeningly against a tree trunk.

Recognizing the putrid and eye-watering stench of the monster, I apprehensively turned my head upwards to see the figure's face in the eye. The monster was an enormous Land Draugr, an undead being that was once a giant of a man, standing well over two meters in height. Infested with white and fat, wriggling maggots, what little hair the Draugr had left hung like loose threads, which only brought its hideousness in sharper relief. Its rancid, rotted flesh revealed things within that were indescribably grotesque, all except for its chest cavity; the only object inside the exposed ribcage was an orb of dull light, pulsating at the regular tempo of a heart.

The Draugr brought a thick and grayed hand behind it, withdrawing an enormous and rusty cleaver stained with a suspiciously brown and dried fluid. The creature's disarrayed teeth split into a grin nearly as wide as its grayed cheeks, and hollow eye sockets leered at me with grey lights of their own. As it brandished the massive blade, the monster gurgled a long and slow chuckle, a hollow and rasping sound that could have only come from the deepest recesses of Helheim.

I snarled a wordless challenge at it in return, willing forth sparkling white flames that danced on the Ulfberht's edges. The brilliance flooded the battlefield, throwing the demons hidden within the forest scenery in stark relief. Many of them recoiled, hissing in astonishment and fear.

The Draugr, blinded by the light, covered its face in surprise without realizing that I was already going in for the kill. With a grunt of effort, I swung the blade upwards, splitting the monster's cleaver arm from its shoulder. Both the mottled limb and the weapon thumped heavily as they landed.

In response, the creature roared, and uppercut me in the stomach with its remaining fist. The blow nearly lifted me straight up from the ground, and I had to plant the sword into the dirt as a support, to prevent myself from collapsing. The pain throbbed sourly, and my body lurched, coughing up spit in an attempt to bring air back into my lungs. My mind barely pieced itself back together to assume ducking position, as the Draugr swung it's single arm to sock me once more.

I was just about to formulate a counterattack, until the entire forest shuddered and quaked with a rumble that could have split eardrums. Accompanied the sound of cannon fire, thick tendrils sprung from the ground, flinging dirt and rocks that pelted and stung everything and everyone upwards. Appelsin whinnied in panic, as the roots of trees tore the ground apart, and wrapped themselves around both him and Noaidi.

More thick tendrils coiled themselves from around and below with lightening speed, immobilizing me. I twisted my neck around to see that every single walking creature was now entangled in tough roots.

One of the trees closest to my team's position began moving without a breeze to carry it, flexing its arms in a solitary dance. Its leaves rattled and shuddered, and the wood began twisting in place. I watched in fascination as the trunk of the tree groaned and developed spirals, folding continuously over itself before finally peeling from the bark. A rudimentary, man-shaped silhouette managed to wrench itself free, crackling and snapping as it motioned ponderously. Two spindly arms extended from its main body, and the entity flexed an equally spidery hand to where its head should be. With a heavy yank, the spirit snapped a chunk of arbor off, which morphed into a recognizable head that reattached quickly. The being craned its neck from side to side, and snorted in satisfaction. Then, it lightly brushed its bare, knotted chin, which sprouted stringy green growth from contact, forming an imitation of a wispy beard.

I recognized his face immediately; two weeks is not nearly enough for me forget. "Treebeard!"

The guardian spirit creaked his head towards me, his narrowed green eyes further wrinkling his bark skin. "Causing trouble as usual, I see?" The roots wrapping around my body squeezed tighter.

The Noaidi wriggled his mouth free from the roots' ensnarement. "Guðmundur, Landvaeittir and Master of these la-"

"-You have no need to talk, Sage of the North. Your persistent drumming has done its job well enough."

Slightly taken aback by the interruption, the Noaidi clamped his mouth shut.

The Landvættir resumed his attention back to me, his dry lips pulling downwards at the edges. "I am very disappointed in you, Adam. We had a deal."

"Guðmundur," I gasped, partly out of relief from seeing him again, and partly out of difficulty breathing. "It's been so long-"

"Much too long." he snapped, scowling. "Our agreement was over. You clearly no longer have any interest in being my aide, or else you would have came just a few hours ago to accomplish your deadline."

"My entire town was besieged by a powerful demon-"

"I've made it very clear before that I don't give a single iota about your kingdom. I was only concerned about what you could do for the Lost Woods. Do you know what you have done by ignoring your quota?" The spirit shook his head in disbelief. "A lot of those shades you befriended missed you. They've been suffering from fear without the help you provide."

My eyebrows rose from this information, and I was tempted to shift my view for the smallest spectral signs of said shades. Some curious eyes, perhaps, a timid wave in the distance, something. I never expected that these shades, who are frequently apprehensive of everything and everyone around them, would hold me in such high regards.

"All day and night," the Landvættir complained, "they pestered me about when you are coming back. They has put me in a very bad mood, these mere mewling minor mutts and their incessant whining! These humans never bothered to show even a modicum of respect to their own warden, and now you, the worst of them all, decided ti come waltzing in here as if nothing happened! What were you thinking, you fool? Were you hoping that you can survive one more romp in to woods? Laughable." The Landvaeittir spat on the ground. "I cannot simply execute you for this insult, but these residents of the forest are not held under such obligations..."

Inhuman, grating voices slithered from between the snares, squealing colorful death threats for having been stalled this long from their prey:

_"Eat him..."_

_"Have him dance over a fire long after his feet turn raw!"_

_"Kill Adam..."_

_"Strip the Adventurer to the bone, crush his skeleton into meal..."_

_"Use his skin for a drum, tight and taut!"_

Sighing in exasperation, I puckered my face, and blew a raspberry at the trapped fiends. The jeers and the irritating din silenced immediately.

First rule to surviving in the Lost Woods: Avoid appearing weak-willed and inexperienced. While blind confidence would be an obvious detriment, feigned arrogance works surprisingly well; it gives predators second thoughts on attacking.

Of course, imitated bravado can only carry a man so far in a situation. I needed to persuade a powerful forest guardian, not bruise his ego any further. I bowed as low as the thick vines could permit me, and groveled, "This is but a single fault in my servitude, and I only request for your forgiveness. As a longtime friend, I ask that you extend your noble hand to me for one last time."

The spirit stared at me with a stoic expression set into wood, completely unresponsive. Guðmundur had not repealed his hostility.

My head and shoulders sagged in defeat. If I could no longer have Guðmundur as an ally,, the trudge through the Lost Woods would become all that much harder. I don't know how much longer the Noaidi and I can defend ourselves from the onslaught of fiends; being captured was the first time we could actually stay put long enough to breathe properly.

If I failed, then this whole plan would be for moot. The Spøkelse would not be removed from Ravendall. The kingdom's people would continue to suffer, until every last citizen was killed and subjugated under the monster's nightmarish torment.

If I failed, Trigve was going to pay for my actions with his life.

"I am sorry to have abused your hospitality for this past year, and my shame for such an act has no bounds." I said quietly. "But... please, I can't live with the knowledge that I have doomed my hometown. I'm begging you... Guðmundur of the Lost Woods, you are one of the few people powerful enough to help me save all of Ravendall. Most of all, you were the closest person I had that I could call a friend..."

The old spirit wavered minutely, his eyes pensive in thought. After two minutes of concentration, he stared up at the night sky, and finally let out a long sigh. "I'm only listening, because the good Sage vouched for your integrity."

My eyes widened in disbelief; Guðmundur was actually treating a human being respectfully, speaking without even a hint of smug superiority. I turned to the ensnared shaman sitting on Appelsin, who remained absurdly relaxed and serene during the entire situation.

_What on Earth is this man..._ I shook my head hurriedly. There are some things that are better left unsaid, and this "Sage of the North" was probably one of them. Perhaps, once this whole deal at hand blows over, then I can feel free to inquire all I want about this Noaidi.

"So..." the Landvættir noted pensively to me. "You won't be coming back?"

"Treebeard... I can't."

"I see..." He creaked and turned around, surveying the carnage that had raged before his arrival. "I was messaged that you intend to strand a powerful ghost here. A solution with indefinite staying power, but understandable." The forest guardian raised a thin and knotted arm high above his head. "Very well. As Landvættir and Warden of the Lost Woods, I grant you lawful protection as per our accord." Guðmundur snapped his fingers, the sound splitting the air with the strength and intensity of a crack of thunder. The roots tangling around me, the Noaidi, and Appelsin shuddered, and vaporized into wisps of beautiful emerald light.

"Unfortunately," Guðmundur proceeded, "I cannot afford to let you free without some sort of compensation. Shameless charity would tarnish my name beyond all belief."

I nodded, straightening my back into the proper poise of a prince. "Very well. State your conditions, Treebeard. I'll gladly do anything for all of the help you provided me today."

"Oh, it's just one requirement." The Landvættir's green eyes twinkled, and he extended a branch-like hand to me. "Hand the sword back to me."

The Ulfberht. Instinctively, I squeezed the scabbard hard, and backed away slightly from the guardian spirit.

"The sword, please." Guðmundur pressed. "It was originally a merit, a badge for being underneath my employment. You were supposed to have returned the weapon the moment our contract was over."

I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew it was what I must to, to rid Ravendall of the Spøkelse once and for all.

But... I don't know why I didn't just give the blasted thing to him right then and there. Instead, I made up childish excuses, anything to stall the fact that the Ulfberht, my powerful year-long weapon of choice, was now to be forfeit forever. "I'll be left defenseless in the Lost Woods..."

"These demons, however unruly their natures are, are bound under the same agreement that keeps them alive in the forest. Killing you will not nearly be worth the punishment, however powerful their hate may be."

"But... How will I clear the undergrowth for Appelsin?"

"The horse? He's stepped on worse than a little bit of bush, and you are aware of the fact. You have your knife, don't you?"

What abou-"

"Enough, Sir Adam." the Noaidi interjected, staring hard at me. "What is the matter with you?"

"Do you realize that I'm going beyond what you humans define 'generosity', Adam?" The Landvættir added. "For missing your deadline, I would have sentenced you to a severe penalty for atonement, and yet I am merely requesting that we officially end our contract on good terms." The wood guardian narrowed his green eyes. "What are you so afraid of?"

_Adam, what is wrong with you? What do you fear for losing the Ulfberht?_

Under both of their wizened gazes, I faltered. "The sword was everything to me." I admitted sheepishly. "It was a major part of my adventures here in the Loast Woods." Drawing the Ulfberht an inch from the scabbard, I stared longingly at the brilliant steel, which emitted light without a light source to reflect from. I could just see the clamor of townspeople projected on the metal, as they gathered around to hear the tales of the legendary Adam the Adventurer. "In spite of all the pain and suffering it has brought, it gave me a purpose, something worth fighting for."

My grip on the Ulfberht shook unconsciously, rattling the sword in place. "I've given up my home... my friends, my family... and now, I must surrender the last thing that made me special? Without it, I'll have nothing left... I'll be nothing."

Even with the horde of angry monsters and creatures rooted in place and surrounding our group, the forest became anxiously silent and still.

Then, the Landvættir groaned, and smacked me lightly on the head.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

"Humans. Always so pointlessly self-critical, always blind to themselves. Don't you understand?" He leaned forward, so I could smell soil, leaves, fresh grass, tree sap, and a blend of other aromas exhumed from his breath. "The sword is but a conduit, a mere crutch for a man such as you. It is an emblem of my employment. Nothing more, nothing less."

"...Excuse me?"

"You still have your head, don't you? You still have your strength, your skills, and your loved ones, no?" The Landvættir held his hand out expectantly for one last time. "You will still be Adam, with or without a powerful weapon by your side."

That... that was the closest thing I ever heard from Guðmundur that resembled a compliment. He's right, of course; even without the sword, nothing about me will change. Worst-case scenario, I'll be less adept at disposing monsters. After all, I still have my wits, my ability to survive, and the people whom I must protect. I wasn't going to have them die from a petty moment of weakness.

Reluctantly, I passed the sword to Guðmundur. His twig-like fingers wrapped around the scabbard, and he placed it against his chest. His bark skin morphed and melted, enclosing itself around the Ulfberht like a toothless and sideways jaw, until it snapped around the sword; the enchanted weapon now was firmly within the wood spirit, without a single trace of it left to be seen.

Guðmundur rubbed his chin, and raised a finger at me. "The sun will be coming up soon, diminishing the Spøkelse's tracking ability and sight. You have until nightfall before I terminate our agreement once and for all."

I ran and embraced the Landveittir fully, ignoring the splinters and scratches cause by his rough and jagged skin. The spirit came to a startled stop, and hesitantly patted me on the back. In the distance, I could hear Appelsin snort repeatedly, sounding suspiciously like he was laughing at this state of affairs.

After I finally released Guðmundur, the old spirit swiped a hand dismissively. "Away with the rest of you!" his voice boomed. The roots suspending the fiendish creatures vanished into burst of lights, eliciting howls and screams of pain. The demons, frustrated that their prey has escaped their grasp once more, snaked back from whence they came, screeching obscenities and curses as they disappeared from sight.

Then, there was only silence. Pure, golden silence.

The Landvættir gestured to the Noaidi. "You know what to do, Sage of the North."

The aged man nodded, slinging his drum over a broad shoulder. "Adam," he called, hopping off Appelsin's back. "It's finally daybreak. What was the Spøkelse's name, and what do you love most about Ravendall?"

I contorted my eyes in bemusement. "Wait, what? What does that have to do with any-"

As I was trying to form an answer to his bizarre requests, the shaman lunged forward without warning, his strong hands outstretched as they struck me simultaneously. His thumbs jabbed deep into my heart and forehead, even as images of my last meeting with Trigve, ghosts, monsters, triumphant journeys, treasured moments within Ravendall, and the word _"Holmgeirr"_ repeated themselves in my mind. I didn't even yelp in astonishment before the Noaidi drew back ponderously, pulling... _something _along with him.

Hanging off of his fingers were translucent, blue streams, painted with white pinpoints of starlight that bounced and twinkled with merriment. Deftly, the man moved his hands over and around each other, so the glittering ribbons followed suit and jumbled together, coalescing into a ball of blinding light the size of my fist.

"I'm terribly sorry, Sir Adam. I needed your memories and emotions to draw the Spøkelse's attention to us." He grimaced at me apologetically. "Call me an old coward, but I'm too old to become another prime target. As soon as this strategy is executed, we will part ways, and hopefully never see each other again."

I blinked at him, stunned, and shook my head. "Oh n-no, it's perfectly fine. His grudge should go to me, and me alone." I bent down to observe the little ball of cobalt light floating between his hands curiously. "Still though, exactly... what are you going to do?"

The Noaidi's lively eyes glittered with mischief. "I may be retired from hunting heavyweights and big game," he announced, straightening his back with pride, "but I will not shy away from a sucker punch." He clasped his hands around the orb, seemingly fighting an invisible pressure that threatened to burst and escape. Even the rays of azure light emitted attempted to squeeze themselves between his thick fingers, thin beams that bled through at times.

"Ready?" he asked waveringly, his arms straining to hold my memories within.

I nodded.

With a gasp of relief, he released his grip on the light. It gleefully burst into a miniature sun that blinded everyone around it, shooting out of the forest canopy and high into the open air. It flared a trail of cerulean stars that tailed the main source in graceful lines and arcs. As the the magical projectile soared with incredible speed across the slowly brightening sky, it shone beams that illuminated even the darkest crevices of the Lost Woods, far beyond what the human eye could see.

Eventually, the light faded into the distance, replaced by the simple tranquility of a forest in the early morning; the rest of the world had resumed its mundane activities.

"Was... was that supposed to work like it did?" I asked tentatively.

I only had to wait for a second longer for the subject to resolve itself; a roaring gale ripped through the trees, causing wood to bend and snap, and leaves to thrash violently in death rattles. Touched with a familiar and unpleasantly spine-tingling chill, the wind tore into me, forcing my arms upward to brace against it. Appelsin whinnied nearby, galloping in front of me and stamping himself to the ground to shield his owner from the chunks of loose debris picked up by the massive gust.

The noble effort was a tad unnecessary though, because the hurricane died as soon as it began.

"It appears that the demon took notice of your actions. A job well done, Sage of the North." complimented the Landvættir. Naturally, neither of them appeared even a touch ruffled by the surprise windstorm.

The forest floor groaned heavily, and the ground beneath Guðmundur melted into a funnel, sucking the spirit into the earth. "It is time that we finally part ways, Adam the Adventurer. Take care and good luck, my friend..."

I waved at him just before he was completely swallowed, and watched as the ground snapped back into its original state.

"Farewell, Treebeard."

With only myself, a horse, and a temporary escort, I departed from Ravendall entirely, for other worlds unknown.

* * *

**Between Page 122-123:**

Dear Adam,

How have you been? Is the winter becoming too cold for you? Are you eating proper meals regularly? Surely, you must at least have a bed to sleep on? I'm only asking because rumors have begun to spread, whispering about an erratic young man who has been stirring up trouble for months within a backwater fishing village. I don't suppose that could be you, could it? If it was, it would give me such great joy to know my brother has finally found a place to feel safe in.

It has been three years as of yet, and it has not returned to Ravendall. I guess we both have that Noaidi to thank for everything.

Speaking of which, that man has only traveled back to the castle once, immediately after the incident, to report your success. He was the one who told me we can't contact each other by mundane methods, lest it might catch on, and trace paths back to either of us. Instead, he prescribed to me the other way to keep us in touch. It didn't matter that the service was expensive, or that delivery could be delayed for entire months; as long as I could exchange words with you again, I was willing to pay the price.

But... Adam, we can't do this forever, at least not for now. I know you have been scraping for every coin in your pocket just to tell me you're still alive, and I don't want to be the reason why you are impoverished. Being my little brother and all, you probably won't listen as usual, but please... Unless you become, I don't know, a king or something, please refrain from writing back to me. You have your own life to live now, and it's about time I stop having a distant little brother who's more concerned about my well-being than his own.

However, that is not the main reason why I'm writing this letter. Adam... we live so far apart. I fear for the inevitable day when we disappear completely from each other's lives. Over the past couple of years, the image of how I always imagined you was beginning to fade; I've already forgotten how tall you were, what kind of cape color you preferred, or the way you used to walk. I know such things are trivial, but eventually, time will rot away both our memories, until neither of us will ever remember that we even had a brother.

It's already affecting the townspeople; you are now a legend, your tales and adventures becoming fantasies to impress children with, just because everything you have achieved and sacrificed was just too incredible. As I listen to them recall you, a sinking feeling from the revelation plagues me to the moment I drift into sleep. I don't know how I would have managed to survive had I not met Johanna, a huge fan of yours.

That is why I've finally decided to take up painting with her. If you must know, she was the only one I could bring myself to trust to paint for me; it was her who worked on all those paintings I sent you on your birthday. Now, she tutors me on a daily basis. I cannot tell you just how incredible a woman she is, teaching me the proper way to use a brush with patience and virtue one couldn't find anywhere else.

Even as of now, as I'm writing this, I can just imagine you sniggering in the distance, and I won't blame you; even as a young boy with actual spare time, I have always been an atrocious artist.

Still, I must try to work hard and improve myself, until one day a viewer could swear that my portraits may as well be mirrors. I must do it for your sake; I know you are homesick, and miss Ravendall's forests and waterfalls terribly. I know you miss its people even more so. Perhaps, by learning from the best in Ravendall, I too could play a larger part in reminding you of home.

Another thing: Once I can finally paint images perfectly, I wish to paint you a portrait of Johanna; I want to show just how much beauty and kindness she possesses in ways that can not be expressed in words. With enough luck, such a dream can be achieved before your relationship with me finally atrophies to nothingness.

One day, we will forget about each other as time flows on, stripping away memories and cherished moments like a cleansing river against stone, until we lay forgotten and useless on our deathbeds. But today will not be that day, and certainly not tomorrow! Johanna and I will continue fighting to preserve your memory and your sacrifice, and only hope that you will do the same.

I finish this letter to you with only seven words:

Take care of yourself, and good luck.

Love,  
_King Trigve of Ravendall_

* * *

_End of Day One_

* * *

**Feel free to ask me any questions; I'm not popular enough to be bogged down by messages, and I will gladly answer each and every one in my own way.**

**See you guys soon, fans of Frozen.**


	12. A Rant

**This not a chapter. This is a motherbleep rant. A short, uneducated one at that. In my rage, I will probably get several topics severely, horribly wrong. You are free to ignore this.**

* * *

**_"[With Elsa, it] definitely was intentional to show anxiety and depression."_** - JENNIFER LEE

* * *

Believe it or not, I just learned about this.

So. Anyway. This came out of nowhere. At least, to me that is.

I mean, it's not really completely out of left hand. As a matter of fact, what the director said was stating the obvious. I easily caught that Elsa was a very, _very_ troubled girl, and that thirteen years of isolation will do a number on anyone. I understood that a lot of people came to the same conclusion, what with all of the reviews, and all of the fanfics about Elsa coping to a new life beyond the door, my fanfic included. It was obvious, and the countless implications the movie made about the Snow Queen were very transparent about all of the trouble she had gone through. Everyone can tell she is a beautiful, sad broken bird, and that's why pretty much everyone who loved the movie love her.

As a side note, I don't care much about how much Elsa's parents, or the trolls, were at fault. They cared for her, made bad choices, end of story. I'm not talking about HOW; _everyone _knows about HOW. This is a different egg.

I'm close to certain everyone can tell Elsa was troubled in a major-league kind of way, some maybe going as far as to consider her having a classified disorder. There's nothing wrong about that. That just makes Elsa all the more frighteningly human. She was crippled badly by the misfortune that came upon her, one after the other; near death of her sister, potentially lethal, near-uncontrollable magic, thirteen years with next-to-no contact with anyone besides her now-deceased parents, and the fact that almost everything that kicked the plot into motion _was unintentionally her fault, _when she mistakenly believed it was _the best thing _she could do_._ That just makes everything she had gained by the end of the movie all the more sweeter. That just makes me love her and Anna even more. Elsa, for sacrificing everything in her life, such as her right to freedom and happiness, to keep her people in the kingdom safe, and Anna, for never giving up on her sister and becoming the hero everyone should strive to become.

But that's why I am writing this story. Anna had her spotlight as the hero everyone should look up to during the movie, but she's only that way because she's a walking beam of sunlight. She's energetic, extroverted, ever-positive, and an all-around joy to watch. No one else can be able to make _Frozen_ progress the way it did. Without Anna, _Frozen _would have been very different, and likely less meaningful than it is now.

Elsa, on the other hand, can't be considered a good role model in the movie. She just can't. She was essentially the black sheep who ran away from home, no matter what intention she carried. She's only human, after all, no matter how fictional. A quiet, shy, lonely, self-loathing neurotic human who was forced into circumstances she can't understand, and nearly gave up on life because of it. And Elsa is only ever presented in a sympathetic light. I'm writing this story because Elsa deserves to be shown as who she truly is; a hero who can help her friends when she is needed.

Aaaannd I just went through a wild tangent. This is a rant after all. I'm gonna get back on topic here.

Jennifer Lee is the film's co-director of _Frozen_, along with Chris Buck, that much is already established. One can quickly interpret Elsa as unsettled, that too is established.

But! Here's the thing that struck me _hard._

The directors, Jennifer Lee included, created this story. She and Buck created Elsa. As one of the directors, what she says about the world of _Frozen_ is the utter truth. What she says follows the trope Word of God.

Jennifer Lee has confirmed that Elsa suffers from major Depression and Anxiety. Elsa is Depressed. She is a gen-YOO-wine, depressed person with a captial D. A psychiatrist would have pinned her with General Anxiety Disorder in a heartbeat. Sure, we have plenty of fictional characters who suffered mental issues before. That isn't new.

What _is_ new, however, is where this particular heroine, this broken woman who is explicitly suffering a crippling mental disorder, diagnosed by the very brains that thought her up, is situated in. So, all in all, let me just repeat this like the broken record I am:

Elsa is a character diagnosed with depression. In a _Disney_ film. About _Disney Princesses._ _Fun for the whole family._

For me... That's just...

I-I can't say anything about this.

I just really, really want to give Elsa the warmest, tightest, most loving hug several complete strangers who don't even exist in the same reality can offer her. Because...

Holy F-bleep, Disney Animated Canon. You've got some balls.

On one hand, this _completely _validates what I am about to do to Elsa, but...

Still...

Wow.

* * *

**Rant Over! The new chapter is coming along nicely, I've done an outline for the whole story and everything. Point out any errors that you saw. See you guys soon!**

**Extra, Two-Days-After-Release Note: The rant turned out to be surprisingly popular, although I believe I was underselling Anna's importance. I'm thinking about pumping out the occasional one-shot about anything _Frozen _related, alongside the actual chapters. Either PM me, or post a comment on any ideas for a story.**


	13. A Fever Dream

**Alert: This is ****not**** the next chapter.**

**This is a one-shot.**

* * *

**A certain **_**someone**_** is coming...**

**...to town. Heh.**

**Because of a freak snowstorm that caused an early dismissal in school, and a snow day in the next, I've decided to upload a little something that has been occupying my mind lately. It's been done before, but I find such situations hilarious. Hope you guys enjoy it, too.**

**Fair word of warning, it's a little cracky, and **_**completely **_**outside of my element. Unless if it turns out I'm good at smut after all. "Shudders" My mind, bless its filthiness, went on autopilot as I wrote this. I tried holding it back, but some thoughts still bled through.**

**In other news, thanks to everyone who decided to make my first (actual) fanfic as surprisingly popular as it is now. I appreciated all of the reviews, likes and favs, and support you have given to me over these past few days. Writing became such a fun activity because of you guys. Thank you.**

**As per standard protocol, I own nothing made by Disney.**

* * *

The event described here takes place in an indeterminate time after _Have Courage, Elsa._

* * *

Despite what was rumored throughout the kingdom of Arendelle for years, Elsa was not the type of person to fall ill easily. She was not allergic to flowers, animals never gave her any troubles, and she was never surrounded with a miasma of foulness. True, such attributes would make sense. Until recently, the Queen was never seen in the light of day. She was probably starved of sunlight and fresh air, the townspeople reasoned. There was even the occasional joke that the throne will be remade into a sickbed once Elsa came of age.

The castle staff over the years only helped to fan the flames. Whenever the servants are on break, it was all they could talk about to their curious, and often gossipy, friends and family. A very pragmatic move on their part. It helped ease suspicions about the mysterious future Queen with a reasonable explanation, and explained the occasional sick staff who suffered from chills, and took leave as a result.

It never occurred to the townsfolk that the illness passed on was recovery from hypothermia.

In reality, Queen Elsa had always been a very healthy girl. The science was nonexistent as of yet, and won't be for another forty years or so, but her body was simply too _cold_ to catch many bugs.

On rare days, and this one in particular, however, a sickness had struck her_, _with overdue interest.

"I'm fine, Gerda."

"And my left foot decided to give me roses for dinner. You absolutely _must _stay in bed today."

"But... What about my documents and files? Who is going to sign Arendelle's new regulations for public gatherings and such?" Elsa's vision began to blur. Her cheeks were positively ablaze. Her lips were parted and moist, and she breathed heavily with puffs of visible steam. Even so, she mustered to sit up and escape from the bedroom.

"You would have, right now, if you haven't been trying to stay awake two hours ago," Gerda protested. "Somehow, you've managed finished today's quota in your state! I even looked over them, and saw no need to correct any errors!" Normally, Kai was the one responsible for editing, but he was on vacation with his nieces and nephews, no doubt talking about his masters' recent misadventures.

"Then that means I'm fine, right?" Elsa shot back weakly.

"You're exhausted as it is. There's nothing left for you but to stay in your room. Right now." Gerda stated this with the authority of an absolute mother, which is odd considering exactly who she was talking to.

Elsa, the Queen of Ice and Snow, settled herself onto the bed glumly. She glared at her ceiling, a familiar sight for over thirteen years of self-isolation. With bitter irony, she noted that she enjoyed being part of the happy chaos that now occupied the castle every day, thanks to Anna's shenanigans with her friends.

If she were still a teenager, she would have been glad to have yet another reason to stay locked inside. Now, she missed having company.

She heard Gerda leave the room. _Well, look on the bright side. At least I have time to myself for once. Time to relax, to rest, to reflect. _No longer was she busy for the day. No responsibilities, no duties, no one demanding for attention. Elsa could lie in her bed like she used to in the old days. She looked at her shelves filled with tomes and worn spines. She had already read each one at least three times over, including the Official Norwegian Dictionary. Despite her fatigue, Elsa managed a smile. Anna would have recoiled from the mere sight of such a book, treating it like a massive insect that deserves to be crushed once she finds a big-enough shoe.

Elsa raised a hand out of her heavy sheets weakly, and tapped into the icy well inside that was her magic. Only a puff of mist was produced, the dew dropping pathetically onto Elsa's forehead without even a snowflake in sight. Elsa sighed. Her magic was kaput, too.

For the first time in weeks, Elsa was bored.

* * *

"Are you sure Elsa will be alright?" Anna asked, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Of course, ma'am. This isn't the first time she has fallen ill, and it certainly won't be the last."

Anna crossed her arms, thinking about how to help her sister. Suddenly, an idea that didn't seem plausible until only recently lit itself up. "Oh, ooh! I know!" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her twin plaits following suit. "How about I take care of her?"

Gerda stopped in the middle of her track, and gaped at Anna in shock. "Ma'am, I assume that..." The veteran servant stopped herself. Right. Open Door Policy. Thirteen years of one rule tends to make a habit that sorely needs fixing. Anna could just see the mental wheels working itself in the older woman's head. "I-I don't know..."

Anna grinned. She knew she had caught onto Gerda, and charged forward to seize the moment, like Joan of Arc if she wasn't a portrait. "I know that Elsa can't get better unless she gets something from the local apothecary. How about you go get the medicine, herb, chemical, whatever that Elsa needs, and I watch over her!"

Gerda swallowed nervously. She was starting to feel the Princess' tenacity, one that thankfully wasn't present in the other sister. She didn't know how to respond. Have Anna look over Elsa? "But..." Gerda stammered. "Elsa requires great care and stability when she is ill..."

"Don't worry! I'm her sister! Nobody knows how to treat her better than me. It does involve lots of chocolate, right?"

She couldn't help herself, a corner of Gerda's mouth twitched. She prevented herself from reminding the princess that there were several things wrong in that single sentence alone.

Anna thought hard to have her way, and came upon a solution. Mischievously, she said in a chipper voice, "When the Queen is unable to carry out her duties, it is the job of the second-in-command to pick up the pace, is it not?"

"I don't think this appl-"

"So, I command you, as the next-in-line for the royal throne, that you will head to town and find the medicine that will guarantee to help alleviate Elsa's sickness, as well as have yourself a meal at the nicest restaurant you can find! After that, you still cannot come back until you have brought a fresh chocolate cake and carrot cake to celebrate Elsa's future well-being. Got it?"

Gerda was stricken, but knew it was hopeless from the beginning. "Yes ma'am," she complied. There has to be some way to protect the two from each other, though. Desperately she latched onto a passing glimmer of hope. "But I'll do it only if you have Mister Bjorgman with you!" Gerda nodded to herself grimly. While he was a relatively new entry to the royal staff, especially with the bizarre title the Queen had bestowed upon him, he had proved himself to hardworking attentive, and (most importantly) reasonably level-headed.

"That's... actually a great idea! I'll go get Kristoff right now!"

Gerda forced a smile that faded very quickly once Anna was out of sight. She looked outside. It probably won't be until nightfall until she can return with all of the necessities.

Hopefully, they can survive without Gerda until then...

* * *

Elsa rested in her bed as she was told to, looking at an open book in her hand without actually reading it, and feeling very dull and fuzzy. She knew that her body was tired without a doubt, as every movement she made was both sluggish and confused. Unfortunately, her mind was racing as if she was currently giving an impromptu Royal Speech in front of the entire population of Arendelle.

Elsa dropped the book off of the mattress unceremoniously, and rubbed her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, annoyed for paying attention to it once more in weeks. It soared high above into space, which is surprising, as Elsa did not remember having slept in a tower before.

As if in response, she felt like she was falling, over and over again, as her bed sank into ground continuously, until she was in darkness that was pierced by blinding stars. They were a beautiful sight, and Elsa's mind wandered free amongst the starlight. The perpetual vertigo transitioned to the sensation of flight, and the bed threatened to release her, along with her appetite. Elsa held herself in, reached a hand out, and shut her eyes for ten, slow seconds before opening them up again. The room and ceiling was back in its original condition. The revelation that her bed never moved, and the return to normalcy disoriented her even more.

_It appears my mind have become so bedraggled by sickness, it decided hallucinations would make for a good time,_ Elsa thought moodily.

"But how else are you supposed to enjoy being all alone?"

Elsa, realizing the voice was completely foreign and not hers, looked around in panic. An intruder?

"You hardly engaged in any activities besides reading, mathematical calculations, and memorizing documents and rules for _years_."

Elsa blinked once, and a tall man appeared before her, standing on her sheets without a care in the world. He was dressed in a fine military uniform similar to that of the Royal Guard. Except, instead of the usual grey tones, he was colored a deep, majestic red, with silver trimmings at the edge of his coat and sleeves. She couldn't see his eyes underneath his hat, which was also red, and plumed with magnificent foxglove flowers. He wore a well-trimmed beard that seemed to be made more out of crystal than hair, and his hands and boots were revealed to be made of nearly transparent ice upon closer inspection. So was part of his chin, for that matter. He stood with one leather foot on each side of Elsa's waist, even though she never felt the mattress sink underneath his weight.

"Wh-who are you again?"

"What? You don't remember me, after all of the times you've had your fantasies and dreams about the outside world?" The man bent over completely, inhumanly so. While his legs stood tall, straight, and proud, his upper half was flipped inwards until they were parallel to his shin guards. His breath smelled of rich, dark chocolate. Elsa's mouth went dry, and her heart raced. "I will happily reintroduce myself, if you wish." He picked up her right hand deftly, and pressed them to his lips. Silver lightning laced its way through Elsa's finger tips, and into her heart, jump-starting it into overdrive. Elsa gasped in shock, and waved at the man away. He immediately vanished. Of course.

_Stupid Elsa and your hallucinations..._

"True, he was never subtle to begin with." Elsa whipped her head to her right. She was shocked to see a beautiful girl with short, black hair resting besides her. Her lips were well-shaped, dark and painted purple. Such color somehow blended with her rich, brown skin, and her blue eyes seemed to capture all light before releasing it back as glitter. She wore a light gown made of silk, and she lied in blanket of pink rose petals that fluttered with every movement she made, like butterflies possessing a single wing. "A kiss to the hand?" She scoffs. "You know you only ever wanted the loving embrace of those you desire."

_Wait, what?_

She reached over and wrapped her lithe arms around Elsa, burying the Queen's head in her bosom. This girl was as fragrant as exotic tea leaves, and she burned Elsa pleasantly, like the sensation of entering a hot bath for the first time.

_No, no, no. This isn't real. _

Elsa, completely red in the face and delirious, shut her eyes once more, counted to ten, and opened them again. There was no girl, no petals, nothing that could have smelled like tea. Elsa sighed in relief, and turned to the window to see if night as falle-

"I'm supposed to be the one attending to her, not you, you scoundrel!"

Elsa groaned. There the two were, the soldier and the flower girl, sitting on the bench nearby the triangle window, bickering with each other to no end.

"She has no reason to be hanging around you, Madame. Especially in that ridiculous getup you call sleepwear."

"So? What kind of scraggly beard is that supposed to belong to, a wild homeless man?"

"I will have you know that I had this trimmed to the exact measurements that were presented to me. Now _you_, on the other hand..."

_Oh, just knock me out and put an end to this madness!_

* * *

Anna and Kristoff looked at each other with worry, before looking at the pitiful figure lying in bed in front of them. One could hardly believe the person in question was the Queen of Arendelle.

"Toto, please stop licking me, I-I'll melt."

"Who's Toto?" Anna asked bewilderedly. She blinked through the steam that was suffocating the entire room. No doubt, they were the result of Elsa desperately trying to occupy herself.

"How should I know? Last time, it was Eponine!"

Anna tugged on her pigtails nervously. "I didn't know exactly what Elsa would be like if she was sick! Until lately, I just assumed she had been sick the entire time!"

"And here, we have the answer to the Riddle for the Ages right in front of us," Kristoff added dryly. "You think she needs a new towel?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I'll hold the door open while you go out." Anna coughed. "I'm starting to drown here." The couple turned to head for the door.

"WAIT!"

Anna and Kristoff turned around, seeing Elsa momentarily lifting herself off her bed. Her face, in contrast to her almost silvery hair, was positively pink, and she panted with intensity, releasing steam from within that hung in the air.

Anna elbowed Kristoff gently to get his attention. "Mind you, she does actually look cute that way..."

"Eh." Kristoff merely shrugged.

"Just... wait. Don't go Jordan..." Elsa fell back limply on the mattress. The blond and redhead stared at each other, and shrugged. They weren't even sure if Elsa was referring to a boy or girl anymore.

"Oh, alright. Juusst one kiss, and that's it..."

This time, Anna and Kristoff were gaping at the platinum-blonde woman. Anna stretched to listen for more, but Kristoff held out an arm to stop her. Anna pouted at him, but his common sense forced her boyfriend to ignore her. He had absolutely no idea what is going on, and he's not liking it at all.

"Oh come on, look at her!" She gestured at the young lady in bed. "She's raising her head up just a little, even!"

"I just don't think I can trust a Snow Queen that is clearly out of her mind, Anna." Kristoff said.

Elsa's sleepy face turned stormy. "What, I let you give me a kiss, and now you wouldn't? Getting cold feet, aren't you? I don't care about which one of you do it, just make up your mind!"

Kristoff gave Anna a deadpan look. "Told you so."

Anna paid no attention to him. "I'll kiss her goodnight, then."

"I don't think that's what she had in mind..."

"What do you-"

"YOU'VE KEPT ME WAITING LONG ENOUGH!" Elsa roared. Anna and Kristoff leapt back, terrified. They have never seen the soft-spoken, demure Snow Queen belt out any words before at quite that volume. The silvery mist that filled the room, illuminated by the moonlight from the window, suddenly vanished, and glacial ice spilled outwards from Elsa's mattress. She was no longer sick. "I'll show you just what happens when you play with the mighty Queen of Arendelle's emotions..."

"And, of course, her powers _have _to return when things couldn't get worse. Thank you very much, you sadistic, stupid higher power." Kristoff turned around. "Well. We can't do anything about it. Let's get out of here."

Anna gave Elsa a concerned glance, and looked insecurely back at Kristoff.

"But the frost is starting to freeze the door shut!" Kristoff shouted, exasperated. Anna pushed and gave him puppy-dog eyes. Kristoff took a deep breath, and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "What am I doing, I can't say no to that face." Snow started to fall, gently at first, but quickly picking up speed.

Anna and Kristoff bolted to one of Elsa's cabinets, pulling out as many sheets as possible. "Can't believe we're actually doing this..." Kristoff muttered. They went to a corner of the bedroom, wrapped themselves in the thick blankets, and huddled together for warmth. Anna could feel the large figure that enveloped her with his bulky, warm arms, and he in turn could feel the slight weight snuggling against him. From there, they watched the Queen until her mind has finally settled down.

* * *

While Gerda certainly had an enjoyable time out in town, she couldn't help but let the Queen's illness plague her thoughts. Queen Elsa was frequent to behave... erratically, when intoxicated by fever, prone to behaving differently from the woman she had cared and tended to for years. It's not the Queen's true self, that's completely silly. She's just an Elsa that was fever-addled and sick.

So, it was much to her happy surprise that by the time she arrived to the palace, with herbs and cakes in tow, everyone involved with the Queen's sickbed escaped relatively unscathed. Gerda found them at the dining hall, where the golden fire crackled brightly and with cheer. Elsa was in perfect condition, and held herself up with the regal posture of a queen. Her pale face was still tinged pink, but that had nothing to do with her vanishing fever.

Queen Elsa had been serving Anna and Kristoff, the two poor, unfortunate souls, hot chocolate, and giving rapid-fire apologies for all the trouble she had put them through. They shivered underneath heavy blankets, but tried their best to give Queen Elsa their warmest, most assuring smiles. Gerda decided to clear her throat at that moment, and held up the bags in her hand.

"Cake, anyone?"

Anna groaned.

* * *

**Like I said, it's just something fun, nothing serious.**

**As a matter of fact, _that _was my solution exploring Elsa's orientation. Which is unresolved, because Jennifer Lee herself said in an interview that Elsa's sexuality is best left unanswered.**

**You freaking _tease_, you.**

**Oh, and by the way, I've already formed the backbone for the next chapter. Just... not the rest of it yet. I'm kind of holding its spine, with nothing attached to it. Maybe a few ribs and a lung? Oh dear, that's an unpleasant image... The rest should start forming soon, and I will update soon. Especially now that I don't have to worry about Jazz Band for the next week.**

**Remember to like, follow, and/or review! I love them so much. Just as much as I love you guys, fans of _Frozen._**

* * *

**One more thing, for all of you depressing fanfic writers who are determined to shatter my heart out there:**

**_"Make it_** **_dark_**,**_ make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke."_**

**— Joss Whedon**

**Funnily enough, _Frozen_ does that pretty well. Isn't that nice?**


	14. Another Christmas Special Preview

**I haven't abandoned your project, ****The Lazy Way****. _Part Four_ will be finished soon.**

**Well, technically you can consider _Part One_ as my contest entry. I will have to make this a separate story now.**

* * *

Part One

* * *

"Papa, do you want to guess what day it is?"

Her father snapped out of his working trance, the one he had always slipped into whenever he was arranging documents and signing papers. While becoming a living automaton had always shielded Eirik from work-induced madness, but it never got easier to switch modes for him. Briefly questioning his whereabouts with a mutter, the King's eyes fell upon a smiling, chubby little girl poking her freckled face out of the mound of files.

"Hm?" King Eirik murmured, immediately recognizing his energetic second daughter. He idly wiped a thin trail of drool sliding down the side of his mouth with a thumb before it could stain paper. "Day? Anna, I don't suppose this is supposed to be a prank, is it?"

"No, not at all!" Anna squeaked. She violently shook her entire head, almost slapping herself repeatedly by swinging her pigtails from side to side.

The King chuckled lightly at her comical expression of denial, and placed his feather pen on the table so it wouldn't spread ink anywhere. "I have absolutely no idea, little one. Tell me, exactly what day is it?"

The girl spread her arms out wide, her face set in complete jubilation. "Why, it's Christmas Day, Papa!"

King Eirik stared at the little princess, blinking twice in rapid succession without saying a single word.

"Christmas?" The girl repeated tentatively, her happy pose faltering underneath his blank expression. She had hoped that her father would light up with glee and burst from his fortress of papers, sending sheets flying like pale panicky birds upon the revelation that today was _that_ day.

Well, in all actuality, Anna would have been fine with any sort of response, no matter how lukewarm. Unfortunately, the little girl just wasn't expecting her father to only stare at her, his face painted with complete befuddlement; he looked more like a confused dog that just heard a new command for the first time.

"Christmas!" the redhead pushed. "You know, the holiday when people give each other presents and play and sing carols together and eat a big dinner together and everyone and their families actually try hanging out together for once?"

King Eirik exhaled long and slow through his nose, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. He loves his daughter, but this is one of those rare moments where he'd very much prefer a less brazen Anna. A feigned gesture of understanding would not satisfy the girl into silence. No, such an answer would only send the little redhead into a flurry of incomprehensible gibberish relating to this particular "holiday", drowning Eirik in words and leaving him with absolutely zero chance of catching up to her.

The King opted to spare himself from the torture, and just tell the little princess the truth. "Anna, I've... never heard of this 'Christmas,' before. Are you sure you did not make this day up?"

"Nonono, it's real, I'm telling you, it's real!" the redhead exclaimed, pouting as she stomped the carpet floor with her little feet. "They used to celebrate it all the time in the countries south of Norway! Look, I even have the evidence here to prove it!" With that said, Princess Anna scampered to the edge of the King's doorway, and heaved with a grunt of effort. She brought forth into Eirik's sight several thick volumes and scriptures that were each nearly half her size, each almost as heavy, and certainly each at least thrice her age.

King Eirik gaped at his daughter in astonishment, not necessarily out of how the girl managed to find the strength to drag these cumbersome things all the way from the library, but from the implications written on the books' bindings; each one contained detailed studies about geography and foreign history that lasted and droned on to no end.

Anna had been _studying_.

"Okay, okay... It may not be celebrated in Arendelle, but it's real." Eirik announced in defeat, buckling underneath the child's intense glare. "Excuse me for my rudeness. So... you say that they give presents?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh!"

"Ah, I see..." the King remarked, massaging his temples in consideration. Anna is a little girl, after all; mo wonder the concept of Christmas would excite her. Smiling at the freckled child, he commented, "So it's like a second birthday, then. How about we celebrate Christmas tonight-"

"-No! Not this year!" Anna interjected.

Eirik froze in place, his mouth and tongue hanging slack and low, dumbfounded.

"It has to be perfect and prepared, not just some sort of lousy rush job!" Anna continued.

The little girl's erratic behavior was absolutely stupefying to her father. He knew Anna had always been more of a hasty sort, impatient and always running headfirst into whatever caught her fancy. She was the kind of person to find amusement in even her very own failings. What kind of factor could convince this girl into a playing a waiting game?

"But... don't you want the presents and feasting?" Eirik asked bemusedly.

"Ye-" Anna slapped her hands to her mouth, before another sound could slip through her lips. She held her head low, bringing her arms behind her, and crossed her feet shyly as she fidgeted in place. "No, that wasn't what I wanted to say! I mean, I do like presents, but you are still so busy, and so is everyone else... That's not how a holiday should work." Eirik's daughter pursed her lips, as her squeaky voice became even quieter. "I was hoping that here could be just one perfect time that I could celebrate an entire day with... everyone."

Ah, there it is, he entire reason why Eirik's daughter would bring up 'Christmas' to him; Anna had been talking about Elsa the entire time.

The King gave a painful, empathetic smile to the little girl. Ever since the Accident, Elsa had completely shut herself out from the servants, her parents, and even Anna, her very best friend.

He was the one who told her to do so. He commanded his own daughter, his eldest child and beautiful daughter, to isolate herself. His children's unhappiness were entirely his fault.

"Anna..." he said softly, climbing cautiously out of his clogged desk without knocking over piles of documents. "You are a very bright girl for one so small." He knelt down in front of her, taking in the sight of his beautiful daughter; she seemed to be growing taller by the minute in his eyes, and only accelerating when he wasn't paying attention. It won't be long before Anna would no longer be a happy innocent little girl, but a full-grown woman who possessed the sadness that all adults carry in their hearts.

No, scratch that. Anna wasn't entirely happy and content, or else she wouldn't have brought Christmas up to him. Because of Eirik, her heart was already saddled early with the sorrow of adulthood.

For once, Eirik could at least gift his own daughter with a little honesty, his very first "Christmas" gift.

"Look at you, you have become so considerate and mature..." he proudly told her. "Yes, your mother and I are very busy, and Elsa would be too bogged down by her studies to properly enjoy this... special Christmas." He patted her affectionately on her head. "She has a long road ahead of her, even before becoming a Queen... Elsa may seem so distant to you and everyone else, but she needs your support. I know for a fact that one day, she will no longer have to cut herself off from you, or anyone for that matter." King Eirik's face broke into a wide grin, genuine and full of anticipation. "Once that happens, I promise that we will have the greatest Christmas in the history of Arendelle! Got it?"

These words had the exact reaction he was hoping to see in Anna; the girl had forgotten all of her troubles, as if they had melted away with the hope he had brought her. The Princess' adorable little face beamed. bright enough to outshine the light emitted from the fireplace and the lamps. "Yay!" she squealed delightedly.

Then, Anna's voice trailed off, and she tilted her head in slight puzzlement. "But... I thought you said there was never a Christmas in Arendelle before. How are we supposed to have the best when we never even had a first?"

"Well, someone has to set the bar..." The King picked lifted his daughter up, and he made his way out of his study and into the halls with her in his arms. "When Elsa is finally ready to present herself to the world, we will celebrate Christmas, maybe with even the entire kingdom. Alright?"

"Okay!" She bent her head down to plant a kiss on his forehead. I love you, Papa."

A twinge of guilt nearly soured his expression, but his daughter's affection managed to stave off the worst of its bite. "I love you too..."

When Elsa is ready...

_I suppose everyone will have to work harder from now on, Elsa._

_Anna has one more reason to wait for you._


End file.
